Serpent Queen
by Katie Macpherson
Summary: A now reformed Pansy Parkinson is working in the Department for the Care and Relocation of Dangerous Creatures when a strange case goes awry. Cast into Westeros as a child once more and given the name Melara Frey, Pansy has to work to rebuild a life for herself, find love in the process and perhaps take care of a few lions while she's at it. Beware the Serpent Queen (Pansy/Robb)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

In truth, this was the oddest thing that had ever happened to Pansy Parkinson.

The last thing that she remembered was going on a scouting mission into a cave in the Himalayan Mountains to look for a dangerous species of serpent that had been feeding off the cattle belonging to the natives.

It was a special type of animal as it was undocumented and one of a rare species of serpent that could cast spells. It specialized in time bending spells that were far more dangerously effective than a time turner and so the agency had sent in their two best agents in Granger and Parkinson to track it down.

But before that, Pansy's life had taken a turn for the strange and bizarre, even before she woke up in a strange land called Westeros.

If there was one thing that she was known for, it was her lack of tact, borderline obnoxious personality and the fact that there were very few things that she actually gave two cents about.

When she had been in school, the only things she had cared about were good grades, her reputation as the Slytherin House Queen and Draco Malfoy.

She had had a massive crush on him when she was younger and though she told herself that it was because of how wonderful and brave he was, it was really that he was her ticket to power in the house.

It wasn't until the end of fifth year rolled around that Pansy began to actually think for herself and make her own decisions.

Her parents hadn't made up their mind as to where they stood in the war yet, though the Malfoys were the dark lord's right hand men. Pansy hadn't been able to understand why her parents were dragging their feet until they had told her during the summer holidays that they had sided with Dumbledore and wanted her to spy on her classmates for the light side.

At first, the only Parkinson daughter had felt incredibly betrayed. She had been raised her entire life to think of herself as a certain type of person and to be a certain way. Now her parents were telling her to turn her back on everything she believed in and go a route she honestly believed was going to kill her and cause the extinction of House Parkinson.

No one had been able to best the dark lord, what made them think that Potter could?

Calum Parkinson had sat his daughter down and explained to her that they were following Dumbledore based on logic and evolution.

At first it hadn't made sense to her, but then he had pulled out a copy of the history book on England's magical families and explained to her that purebloods were dying out from too much inbreeding. More and more squibs were being born and House Parkinson had only birthed two healthy children in the twenty years that Pansy's mother and father had been married. The doctors at St. Mungo's had been shocked that her mother Trina had been able to bear any at all let alone two.

It was why they had sent her older brother Trystan to Italy to find a wife from one of the pureblood witches there. The pureblood was stretched too thin and if there was any chance of saving their bloodline than they couldn't go the supremacist route that Riddle was taking.

 _"It is either conform or die Pansy," her father had said to her._

It had taken her the better part of the summer holidays to understand that her parents were right and perhaps it was time to begin doing things differently.

She still hadn't liked it at first and had absolutely hated it when her parents had dragged her to a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix meeting. Playing nice with Potter and Granger and Weasley had been awful.

She hated them and they hated her. The only good thing was that they couldn't call her pug face anymore since over fifth year she had grown into her looks. Many of the boys at school had begun to give her a second look which had bolstered Pansy's ego even further.

But after a while of being forced to hang around with the Golden Trio, Pansy had discovered they weren't as bad as she had first thought. It helped that the senior Weasleys got along with her parents and vice versa.

The next two years seemed to fly by in which Pansy noticed the error of her ways and actually became close friends with Hermione, something she would have thought unthinkable years earlier.

They went on to defeat the dark lord, something Pansy also would have thought was unthinkable and graduated from school.

A final unthinkable thing was the fact that Pansy began to date Ron Weasley, something she was sure that would have made her younger eleven year old self run screaming from any room.

But things were actually going rather well.

Potter had shacked up with Lovegood and Ginny Weasley was currently engaged to Blaise Zabini.

Everyone who Pansy thought would have nothing to do with each other while they were in school was now suddenly in relationships with each other, dating or getting married and planning families.

She was sure her ancestors were rolling over in their graves.

But Pansy found she couldn't care less what her grandparents or their parents or even her distant aunts, uncles and cousins would have thought.

For the first time in her life she was happy and she didn't care that her ancestors wouldn't have liked it.

Ron had matured a good deal from his school days and treated the former Slytherin right. He genuinely cared for her, and Pansy would be lying if she said he didn't make her heart beat faster when he walked into a room.

After graduating from school, she had secured a job working in the Department for the Care and Relocation of Dangerous Creatures along with Lovegood and Granger. Taking care of odd animals had been a hobby of the odd blonde when the three of them had been in school. Against her better judgement, Pansy had followed her friends into the business and become one of these hunters as well.

Becoming a member of this department required training that was far more vigorous than that of being an Auror and every day for nearly a year before they had gotten their badges, the three friends had found themselves in rigorous training that included, tumbling, boxing, wrestling, sword fighting and using other weapons of various ilk.

Some of the creatures they would be sent after would be highly dangerous and required them to be highly physically trained in order to subdue them and relocate them. Pansy found there was nothing she liked more than to throw herself head first into the training

Bleeding heart Granger, as Pansy would sometimes jokingly refer to her as, would go off on a tangent about how they were making the lives of these creatures better by simply moving them to safer habitats.

Pansy would then laugh at her partner, causing Hermione to glare at her.

It was odd that now the two of them worked in such close quarter with each other when they had hardly been able to stand each other when they had been in school.

But oddly enough, they had worked rather well together.

Hermione was there when Pansy wanted to rant about Ron and Pansy was there when Hermione wanted to rant about Draco whom she was currently dating.

That was as big a surprise as the brunette had ever seen.

She would never have thought in a million years that the Hogwarts bookworm and resident expert in all things goody two shoes related would get together with the Slytherin bad boy.

But they had been going out for around six months now and Pansy had never seen Draco as happy as he was when he was with Hermione.

It seemed the end of the war had brought about a good deal many changes.

The two were talking about getting married even and Granger had been talking about the wedding plans even before the two partners had trudged up the mountain path and into the cave where apparently the den of serpents was hiding.

Unfortunately, they had underestimated the sheer size of the nest they walked into and these serpents were volatile when their nest was being disturbed.

Pansy tightened her grip on the two long knives she always carried with her for emergencies but it was too late.

Faster than both of the partners were able to follow, one of the serpents reared up and spit poison at the two of them.

Knowing what the venom of this serpent could do when it came into contact with skin as she had seen the effect it had on other things, Pansy did the unthinkable and forced Granger out of the way.

In truth, she had thought she would have more time to move, but the moment she felt something wet and sticky and stinging touch her face….it was all over for her.

The last thing Pansy heard before she blacked out was Granger screaming her name and the painful and bizarre sensation of falling faster than the eye could see. Her stomach rose into her throat and her last thought was of Ron before she blacked out.

Ω

When the brunette opened her eyes again, she was surprised to find that she was in strong light.

At first the brunette thought she had been taken to St. Mungo's and that Granger had somehow managed to get her down the mountain but when she looked up again and saw the face of an unknown woman looming over her with a smile on her face, she immediately realized something was on.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" she asked and then wanted to clap a hand over her mouth when she realized that the words had come out of her, but not in any sort of form that she knew.

In fact, she had _babbled_ them as if she were a new born infant.

 _What the bloody hell is this?!_

"She's beautiful my lady," said a new voice and Pansy looked up to see a woman in a homely brown dress wiping her hands on an apron as she looked at her.

"She certainly is," said the unknown woman who was looming above her. "I think so, and I certainly hope Walder thinks so and doesn't just ignore her. She's his first born daughter, he should have some connection with her."

"What do you wish to call her my lady?" the other woman asked as the two of them looked on.

The unknown woman who Pansy was slowly beginning to register was her mother, smiled down at her.

"I've never seen an infant with such jade green eyes as she has. I wonder where she inherited them from. It certainly isn't from myself or Walder. Her black hair perhaps, but not her eyes."

"My lady, Lord Walder will want to know what you have decided to name her," the other woman said uncertainty, fear coming into her eyes.

At this point, Pansy had to remind herself not to panic. She had not a clue what was going on, or where she was or how she came to be in this place and was so obviously an infant once more.

 _This woman is acting like my mother but she is certainly not the mother that I know._

"Yes…..Yes of course," her new mother said nodding down at her before she reached out a hand and took hold of one of Pansy's curls….looking at her with love in her eyes.

At this expression, the beautiful brunette began to calm very slightly. Surely the place she was in could not be all bad if there was a person who loved her and treated her as her daughter.

Right?

"I have a feeling this one will be special," she murmured. "She'll be better than her brother….she'll be better than all of us."

"Lady Bethany," the other woman said who was clearly a servant. "The name?"

"Melara….Melara Frey."

 _What have I gotten myself into?_

Ω

 **So...you guessed it! A Pansy Parkinson in Westeros fic is born! I promise this will be the last story I post for a while because I'm already getting in over my head with all of these projects, but I just can't help myself at times. Pansy is a little known character as well but the one thing we do know about her is that she's brash, tactless and doesn't really give a rip about anything but power in Slytherin House, well that and Draco when she was younger. In this story however, I wanted to pair her with Robb because I just think that would be interesting and I have a huge crush on Robb Stark as it is lol. I also happen to think that House Frey needs some cleaning up and Pansy would be an interesting choice to do it. I hope you like it and don't forget to review!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 _This is just bloody bizarre._

Pansy would be thinking that a lot over the next few years as she adjusted to life as Melara Frey.

Once she had gotten over her shock that she was once more a newborn in a mother's arms, she had begun thinking she was hallucinating from the poison of the serpent.

Finally once she had gotten over the shock of that, she wondered if this was some sort of bizarre experiment she was being exposed to at St. Mungo's.

And once she had gotten over that idea, it had finally begun to sink in that this was her new reality and she had had a full blown meltdown.

Thankfully she was an infant at the time so it wasn't completely out of character for a child of her new and tender age to cry at times.

She had cried for around an hour before she realized she needed to buck up. Pansy Parkinson wasn't a girl who took things lying down. When she was younger she might have thrown a temper tantrum about a problem that she couldn't fix. But when this mysterious event had happened, she was twenty three….far more mature than she had been at eleven and mentally capable of rationalizing several things to herself.

Both of her parents had died in the war and in desperation she had turned to Ron for comfort, something he was more than willing to give. She was well used to the pain of loss and being independent and making her own way.

But this was something far different.

And for the first few years of time in this new life, her mother Bethany Rosby would comment on how quiet she was.

In her silence, there were a few things that Pansy was able to command herself to do and a few things she was able to learn pretty quickly.

For her commands, she willed herself not to act like a brainless moron like she had in the past. Yes the situation was bad and yes she did not know how to handle it. But she would find a way as she had done when she was a teenager and been forced by her parents to join the light side in the war. If there was one skill Pansy had managed to obtain when her parents changed sides, it was her ability to adapt.

She had spent nearly four years training for six hours a day to become an agent of the CRDC and some of the things she had learned to do were…under the counter to put it mildly. She had learned how to become an Animagus, practice wandless magic and fight with a sword as some creatures were impervious to magic and would require the sharp taste of steel.

She had learned how to do all of that and yet she had not once shown weakness. Showing weakness was not something a Parkinson did. And she would always be a Parkinson at heart even though her name was Melara Frey now.

She would adapt….she had no other choice.

Part of her adapting process was to learn absolutely everything she could about her new family.

And what she gathered was appalling to the brunette.

Her mother, Bethany Rosby was the fifth wife of Lord Walder Frey and had born him six children so far, including her and she was the oldest girl of all of the children he had had by her.

The next thing she had learned was that Walder Frey was a weasel.

There was no other way to go about describing him when she had gotten a close look at him as a child. He had a narrow face and sharp beady dark eyes that were always darting about and a cruel mouth that was always pressed into a firm hard line unless it was laughing about a joke or smiling because the hands of the owner were fondling a servant girl.

What appalled Pansy the most however was the fact the man she would have to call father was aging rapidly and he had so many descendants that this often led to infighting and blood shed which was just more pointless activity.

Walder's oldest son Stevron Frey had died in a battle, and his second son Edwyn Frey, who was the heir to the Twins was a very cold man.

Because Bethany was his fifth wife, none of the children she bore him would inherit anything so it made Pansy wonder why on earth he had married as many times as he had done.

He clearly had no more need of heirs as Edwyn was going to inherit it all when Old Walder decided to die but with the way things were going, Pansy thought it would be ages before he decided to kick the bucket.

The man had clearly lived past his prime and was ripe for death if what she had seen was any indication.

Plus, Pansy didn't trust a man who had had so many wives. She was suspicious of many of their deaths as well and didn't trust the fact that Old Walder, a man who clearly had no more need of children was an honest man in any sense of the word.

Because she had spent so much of her first life lying herself, Pansy knew exactly what truth and honesty looked like and Old Walder didn't have an honest bone in his body.

In those first few years of her new life, Pansy quickly learned that there were few people she could trust.

The first one was her mother Bethany.

Despite how much of an arse her new father was, Bethany Rosby was a sweet woman who lived for her children and nothing else.

There was no love lost between the two of them and that was something that Pansy could clearly see.

There were only two other people in the Twins when she was growing up there who Pansy felt safe enough to let her guard down with and those were her two older brothers Willamen and Olyvar. She called them Will and Olly for short because her in her babyish grasp of the language their names were a hard thing for her to pronounce at one. Since she was their baby sister, they were prone to be rather protective of her.

Pansy still found it hard to believe that in that weasel den they were the only ones who had some form of honor that she knew of. Will had expressed a desire to be a knight and Olly wanted to hold his own keep when he was older. They weren't big dreams, but they were dreams none the less and she hoped with all of her heart that they got them.

Pansy knew what it was like to be sneaky and conniving and she still could be that way but after turning sides in the war, she found she didn't like to do it as much. There was much she would risk for family but as far as she was concerned, there were few Freys that she would consider family.

When her younger sister Roslin came along just a year after she was born, Pansy made it her personal mission in life to protect her sister. She had never had a younger sister before and so it made her all the more protective of Roslin.

She knew what it was like to be a younger sister, but never an older one and it was a new feeling for the brunette.

It also seemed that as much as she knew she was different from the majority of her family, they were aware that she was different from them as well. But their observations were much shallower.

Pansy was aware that she didn't look like a traditional Frey but her cousins and half-brothers and sisters seemed to think that this made her different from them.

When Old Walder had seen her as a baby, he had proclaimed her the most beautiful of all of the daughters he had had so far. But it wasn't a compliment. Pansy knew she was the only one with thick black curls that hung to her waist and jade green eyes in the family and she often wondered why it was that she had retained most of her Parkinson features when it was so obvious that she had been born into a different life to different parents.

She puzzled about that for so long that she got a headache, but after a while decided it wasn't something she needed to worry about. Bethany Rosby had had hazel eyes as well but they were nowhere near as large and jade colored as her own.

She remembered when she was in school Draco teasing her and tell her that her eyes were nearly as green as Potter's, something she hadn't liked at all.

Her father did seem to like it however as it meant a great deal many things to him.

Pansy had seen the greedy gleam in his black eyes when he had said this and wanted to squirm in his arms as he had held her. It meant that he saw her as a chess piece to move about a board. And the prettier she was, the easier it would be to marry her off to a lord that was above their station and exert more Frey influence.

That was another thing that made Pansy's lower lip curl in disgust.

As much as she had reformed her ways in the last eight or nine years of her first life, she still liked to know that she was from a powerful family.

In Westeros, while her family did command some respect, they were hardly powerful. The Freys were the sworn bannermen of the Tullys, the Lords Paramount of the Trident.

They were capable of fielding a thousand knights and three thousand foot soldiers which was rather impressive for what was technically known as a minor house. They had been able to amass wealth because of the bridge that they controlled but that was all.

The one thing that Pansy did inherit from her father however was the old man's ambition. She liked to think it was something that she always had however, even when she had been a witch working at the Ministry of Magic. Hermione had often told her that her ambition did push ups in her sleep and made the Muggleborn look like a couch potato in comparison.

That had always made Pansy laugh, but now she could see her friend's point.

This time however, her ambition had had a wholly different focus. She wanted to be rid of weasel like Freys like her father and many of her half brothers and sisters. The one who did have some semblance of ambition were completely idiotic about it and used it to take advantage of those weaker than them. And the rest were just bloody cowards.

Pansy had been surrounded by cowards when she was in Slytherin and was fully able to admit that she had been one herself before her parents had forcibly made her switch sides in the war.

And something she had learned about cowards was that they were bloody annoying to be around.

Some of her older half-brothers….the ones that weren't idiots that was were the ones that were completely cowed by her father.

As far as Pansy was concerned, there was absolutely nothing to be afraid of. Walder Frey was a peevish old man who liked to fondle young girls and brood about all the slights he had imagined that he had suffered.

He was just as much of a coward as the rest of them were and he would sit there and watch them all at mealtimes with a sly gleam in his eye as if they were all his puppets and he was the one holding the strings.

Suffice it to say that Pansy hated her new father.

Callum Parkinson had been a hard man but that was one of the reasons she had loved him as much as she had. He expected nothing but the best from herself and her brother Trystan and his ambition had fuelled her own.

Walder Frey's gave her nothing but the creeps.

More than once she had contemplated running away but there was only the matter of where she would go to.

She knew she had her magic to protect her as one of the things they had taught her in training for the CRDC was how to practice magic wandlessly.

Sometimes she had been faced with a creature that moved so fast it had been impossible to draw her wand and so she had had to draw upon the wandless magic she had been taught. It took a good deal of effort and will when one was first starting out but the rewards were great. Pansy loved the fact that she didn't need a wand to be able to cast magic anymore and it made it that much easier to retaliate on her cousins when they bothered her.

It also took some getting used to when they called her Melara all the time and she would take a second to respond. She still thought of herself as Pansy and she knew that was something that was going to have to change soon.

She didn't want anyone to think of her a simpleton when she didn't respond after they had called her.

Pansy wasn't used to having such a large family before and the fact that she had been the youngest of only two in her first life and now had at least fifty family members was something that took a lot of getting used to.

As far as she was concerned, that title only belonged to her mother Bethany, Will and Olly and her sister Roslin.

As long as they were safe, she didn't care about what happened to anyone else.

That belief would be tested when she turned sixteen and faced her first real challenge in Westeros.

The great game.

Ω

 _Fifteen years later….._

Melara aimed at the target, keeping her aim slow and steady. She could feel the brush of the feathers from the tip of the arrow against her cheek and fought not to be distracted. Will had told her that the trick to hunting with a bow was patience and precision.

Though she knew how to use a sword as it was something that was required for her career in her first life, shooting a bow and riding a horse were things that were new to her and her brothers had turned out to be good teachers.

The one good thing about being some of the younger of Walder Frey's children was that he didn't pay as much attention to them as he did his other sons and daughters who had come along first.

As far as the newly named Melara was concerned this was the only good part of being a Frey. The Twins were a place that was rife with deceit and she was always more relaxed when she was outside of the place. The halls were cold and creaky and there was an air of deception about the place that had her constantly on her guard.

Her magic was something she had had to keep carefully hidden while she was inside of the walls as well. If Walder Frey knew she was in possession of such powers he would no doubt wish to use her to further House Frey by any means necessary and that was something she was completely unwilling to do.

Pansy knew what being used felt like. She had felt like that many times when she had had a thing for Draco Malfoy in school, and even though this was far different the underlying principle was the same.

She would not be used….not now…not ever.

Once she had centered her eyes on the target and levelled her stance, she took aim at the large barrel of hay about fifty yards away and fired.

There was a decisive twang as the arrow was released and a sharp sound as it cut through the air.

Willamen who was overseeing her lessons when their father wasn't around gave her an approving look. "Well done Mel, you are improving."

Melara gave the target an appraising look and noted that she was just shy of the center. "It's not bad I suppose."

She and her older brother would a good ways into the trees and out of sight of the Twins. If Walder Frey ever learned that this was something they were doing, he would no doubt beat Will and make Melara watch. She had no intention of getting her brother into trouble for something she had asked him to teach her.

She hadn't liked learned to shoot a bow at first but it did have its uses. She'd never be as good at it as her brothers were but she had accepted that a long time ago. And a well-placed spell was just as good if not better than an arrow from a bow.

"You are too hard on yourself," Will said as he walked toward the target and removed the arrow. "No one else I have taught has been able to adapt to the skill as well."

Melara twisted up her mouth slightly as she was thinking. "That is most likely because no one else has had as much to lose learning it as I do."

Will's face darkened. "Father would not punish you for learning this."

"It's not me I'm worried about if he finds you," Melara shot back. "It's you I'm concerned for."

Will adopted a careless expression. "He would not harm me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh no? You know how unpredictable and sadistic he can be at times."

Will smiled and placed his hands on her shoulders after he had put the arrow back in the quiver on his back. "Sweet sister, you worry far too much. Father is too busy dealing with our other brothers to pay any attention to what we do or say."

Melara wasn't convinced. The part of her that was still Pansy Parkinson was the part that was still suspicious of everyone and everything.

A few years ago her mother had died while she and her brothers had been out riding and to make matters worse, the cause was unknown. Pansy had come close to killing the old man for that. The words to the killing curse had been on her lips until Olly had put his arm around her and reminded her of where she was.

And now the old bastard was on to his sixth wife, Annara Farring. Melara had no fault against the woman herself as she pitied all the wives of Walder Frey and Annara was a bit of a simpleton. She wouldn't last long Melara had no doubt.

The children she had given birth to thus far had all inherited the Frey, weasel like features that made them stand out. She didn't know how she and Olly and Will and Roslin had inherited more of their features from the Rosby side as opposed to the Frey side, but she counted herself lucky in that regard.

They also seemed to have inherited a good deal of their personality traits from the Rosby side as well. Well, all aside from Melara who still retained much of her personality when she was Pansy.

She was fierce and determined and had no qualms about killing to get what it was that she wanted. She had fought in a war after all and sometimes the only path to peace was through taking lives.

It was a hard lesson she had had to learn when her friend Daphne had died in the last battle. Pansy had personally gutted the Death Eater responsible.

Demonstrating ruthlessness had been in her before she ever became Melara Frey.

The worried look on her face must have increased for Will tilted her chin up and forced her to look into his eyes.

He had green eyes as well but they were nowhere near as vibrant as hers and were a deep dull colored hazel, the kind that their mother had had.

"Perhaps we should leave the Twins for a while," he suggested.

Melara scoffed. "And how do you explain that to father? Tell we are going for a stroll for a few weeks and see what he says?"

Will rolled his eyes. "You underestimate me sweet sister. I always have a plan."

"Well then tell me."

He smiled at her. "King Robert has appointed a new Hand since Jon Arryn has recently died and the tourney to celebrate his appointment is in a fortnight. We should go. I will compete and it will get you away from the Twins for a while. If Father allows you to go that is."

Melara rolled her eyes. "I can handle that old bastard."

Will raised an eyebrow at her and she grimaced, realizing what she had said.

About two years ago, both Will and Olly having known something was different about their sister had demanded to know what it was. They had seen the way she could do things, odd things that she couldn't understand.

For instance when she was little, she had often liked to play a game called hopscotch along the bridge that cross the Trident. And when she had jumped, she always remained in the air a little longer than normal before coming back down.

Or there was a time when she had been five and had thrown a temper tantrum because Will had been allowed to do something and she couldn't go with him. She had broken every glass goblet in the keep.

But there was one time when she was eleven that had stuck in Will's memory forever. He had been teaching her how to ride a horse and all of a sudden with no warning, the creature had bolted. Due to her inexperience on the creature it wasn't long before Melara had fallen off.

Will had been in a panic thinking she was dead or grievously injured but when he had gotten to his sister and rolled her over he had seen that she was perfectly unhurt, not even a scratch or a bruise on her.

They had kept the incident between themselves but from then on, Will had watched his sister closely.

Olly had noticed the same thing and when she was thirteen, they had approached her to demand answers, listing all the things she had done that were impossible for a normal human being to do.

She had finally caved and told them about her magic of which they had been astonished. Immediately after conveying her secret, they had demanded that she keep it hidden for they were afraid of what their father would do if he ever learned of her abilities.

Melara had been touched by their concern and had agreed.

But ever since she told them the truth, both of her brothers had watched her like a hawk to ensure that she wasn't revealing too much.

It got a little annoying at times, but it did prove that they loved her and would do anything to protect her.

"We've talked about this," Will said quietly giving her a rather severe look.

"I know," Melara grumbled. She understood why they were asking her to keep quiet about it but she didn't like it.

Will sighed. "Perwyn is going to compete in the tourney. I will simply ask father if you and I and Olly can accompany him. And if you really want to sweeten the pot you can tell him that while you are there, you will look for more…..agreeable connections for House Frey."

Melara grimaced. "Sometimes I feel as if he is going to try and wed me to one of the four wardens or their sons for all he talks about my looks."

Will smirked at her. "No matter how deep his ambitions run, there is little chance of that happening. The only ones close to your age are the Wardens of the North and the South and you would have to marry one of their sons. Although with your looks I suppose that it possible. You must count yourself lucky sister that you inherited nothing of the Frey features."

Melara sighed. "Perhaps if I did it would ensure I wasn't under his attention so much."

Will took her hand. "Come, I will talk to him and we will go to the tourney. Seeing as how our good King Robert is so fond of a celebration he will wish for many of subjects to be there. The tourney will not be complete without House Frey."

Melara rolled her eyes. "Now I know you're teasing me."

Will chuckled. "Come sweet sister, he will agree, you will see."

"Whatever you say."

They slowly walked back to the Twins and when Will went to put the quiver and the arrows away, Melara stood there for a moment looking at the keep and sighed. Her life wasn't bad, it really wasn't….but the part of her that was still Pansy Parkinson, the reformed Pansy Parkinson that was, was telling her that this wasn't how it was supposed to be. She was a witch and a she had spent the latter part of her teen years and her early adult years helping people.

And she would be lying if she said she didn't want to do so in a practical way again.

 _Soon,_ she thought as she walked toward the Twins. _Soon, I will be able to help people again. Once father decides to leave us one final gift and dies. I am going to figure out a way to do that again._

A time for both of those things would be coming sooner than she thought.

Ω

 **So I probably should have clarified in the first chapter that in this story, Pansy/Melara is the oldest daughter of Walder Frey by Bethany Rosby which was his fifth wife I believe. So she's a year older than Roslin but not his oldest daughter. And if my calculations are correct, than that means she will be seventeen when she marries Robb hehehehe can't wait for that. Also, since Walder Frey has so many children, I thought it might be a good idea to flesh out the characters of some of them, which is what I am doing for Willamen and Olyvar. I thought it would be good for Pansy to have some people that truly love her and as a symbol that House Frey is not all rotten to the core. So in the next chapter we will be heading to King's Landing for the tournament. I feel I should warn you however, with one exception things will be pretty much canon until the Red Wedding. After that things are going to be extremely AU. That's all for now. Don't forget to review!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

True to his word, Willamen secured their father's blessing to travel to the capital for the Hand's Tourney. Perwyn would be traveling with them as well which gave Melara some peace. As far as she was concerned, only the children that had been born to Bethany Rosby had some sort of decency in them.

Perwyn had made it his unofficial role to look after all four of his younger siblings since the death of their mother but it had been Roslin who needed it the most. She had always been a sickly girl but it seemed to have increased after Bethany's death.

Melara's second oldest brother Benfrey was already married and didn't live in the Twins anymore, having secured his own small keep in the Riverlands that the Tullys had gifted to him upon his marriage to his wife Jyanna.

Benfrey had been one of the Frey's who was the most quiet, but he was dangerous with a blade and one of the few people that Melara wouldn't want to meet in a fight if she didn't have her magic.

He had been the one who had trained her with a sword the most even though she had already known how to use one.

Melara had used the excuse that she was going to visit her brother in his small keep that was called White Water but she had really made use of the time to pick up a sword with Benfrey and train as hard as she could.

When she was still a child, Benfrey had seen her natural talent with a blade and wondered at it for a while. Deciding he was going to train her himself, her and her older brother had spent many an hour duelling at night on either side of the Twins.

Benfrey had no idea that his sister had known how to use a sword before she had been somehow reborn into this world as Melara Frey, so her progress with a sword in leaps and bounds astonished him.

She was faster with a blade than anyone he had ever seen and had possessed such blistering speed with her feet and he had to use ever muscle and foot to the full when practicing with her.

All in all, the five siblings loved each other dearly and even though Ben didn't live in the Twins anymore, Melara still wrote to him almost every day.

She was glad that her second oldest brother had gotten out of the keep and was doing well. His wife Jyanna was a sweet woman who had birthed him two children already named Osmund and Della who gave Ben great pride.

Their small keep was a warm and comforting one that Melara truly felt she could let her guard down in.

Since Bethany's death, the five siblings had banded around one another to comfort each other, especially when their father married his sixth wife Annara Farring.

On top of the many children that Walder Frey possessed, there were countless bastards he had had fathered over the years as well.

Several of them had shown up at the keep so far over the years but only two daughters had actually stayed by the name of Walda.

Inwardly Melara had scoffed at the stupid name but kept her jokes to herself. She had learned a bit of self-control as Pansy Parkinson before she had come to be a Frey.

All of Walder's bastard children had inherited the weasel like features that were so characteristic of house Frey, but somehow it made them appear either even crueler or more dense than usual.

For example, Melara's bastard sister Walda was a pudgy woman who most likely would not be able to achieve a match above her station before she had come to the Twins.

Unfortunately for the rest of the Frey brood, those in the Twins were the only ones who knew that the two girls were bastards as Walder had claimed them as his own.

That would have been a nice gesture if it had been done for the sake of the girls themselves, but Melara knew Walder had done it only so he might be able to achieve better matches for them and thus gain more power for himself.

She had tried once a year ago to reach out to her bastard sister's but they had shunned her effort because as Roslin told her, Melara was the most beautiful Frey girl who had walked the halls of the Twins.

Melara had laughed at her youngest sister but she was also painfully aware of how true it was. Most Frey's had dark brown hair and brown or black eyes. Melara was the only one who had been born with jet black curls and jade green eyes that had come from Bethany. All of her other siblings had brown eyes or irises so dark a green they looked brown as it was. Only Melara's were jade green.

Looks didn't really matter much to Melara and they had mattered even less to her as Pansy. Hell she had been called pug faced for the first three years of school before puberty had hit her like a hippogriff and the boys started taking notice.

By the time she was seventeen and fighting in the war, Pansy had been one of the most beautiful girls next to her best friend Daphne Greengrass with her silky blonde hair and blue eyes.

And now it seemed her looks from her first life had carried over to her second.

But now she saw them as a blessing and a curse. Her father would look at her with greedy eyes as if she were his ticket to an alliance with a much more powerful house than the Freys.

Gods she hated that man.

More than once, Melara had longed for a return to the time when she was Pansy Parkinson and she had had a father who actually cared about her wellbeing and didn't see her as just a pile of coins or a legion of foot soldiers or mounted knights.

But she had the mind of a twenty three year old in a fifteen year olds body so there were some things she knew about how to adapt and how to rise above expectations.

And it wasn't as if she didn't have love around her either. Her two oldest brothers were knights and though Will was excellent with a bow, there were times when she was certain he had a gift for healing as well and should look into becoming a maester.

But she had a feeling that no son of Walder Frey's would not become a knight engage in any other type of occupation than that of the sword.

But there would be a time coming when all of the Freys swords would be crossed in battle and brother would fight against brother.

Olly was a bit disappointed that he was to remain behind but given that he was only sixteen and his two older brothers were already competing there was no need for him to do so as well.

Besides, someone had to keep an eye on Roslin and seeing as how the rest of the Rosby children and some of the other Freys were at the tourney, Olly was the only one who could be trusted in the Twins.

Melara was excited to leave the Crossing and experience some form of life outside of the Riverlands, but more importantly, she was just happy to be away from her father.

She was also happy to have a place to train with her brothers out from under Walder Frey's watchful eye.

Perwyn was going to compete in the tourney and hopefully bring honor to the name of Frey….or at least that had been what her father had said.

And once Will had told Walder that why the three Freys were in the capital, they might look for more agreeable matches for Melara, she had seen the old man's eyes gleam and knew that they had him.

Of course they didn't really intend to do so, but why tell the old man the truth when the truth didn't really matter?

So he had agreed with his blessing and that he expected Melara to represent well the name of Frey as they didn't really know who was going to be there.

She pasted on a smile and nodded but inside wanted to roll her eyes. There had been many times when she had hexed the man throughout her life and no one had known she had done it.

Of course her brothers had fixed her with looks when she did as they knew, but Melara hadn't cared.

The moment Melara went to her chambers to pack for the journey to the capital, Roslin came in and sat down on the bed looking sad.

"What's wrong?" Melara asked.

"Do you have to go?" Roslin asked looking upset.

Melara smiled before sitting down on the bed and taking her sister's hand in hers. Even though only one year separated them, sometimes Melara felt as if she were a decade older.

Perhaps that was because she was mentally but Roslin didn't know that. Melara found she had had to be the guiding hand for her sister since their mother had died and she wasn't well used to doing that.

She had always been someone who was rather brash and that hadn't changed with her rebirth as Melara, but a new sort of compassion had. Melara had no qualms whatsoever about killing someone as she had done it in her first life and spilling blood did not faze her.

She was fierce and proud and more than a little dangerous and willing to get her hands dirty to get done what she wanted to get done.

But Roslin wasn't like that.

She was sweet and innocent and sensitive with sad eyes and had a very tender heart. There was no way she could have picked up a sword to kill a man like Melara could or respond with blistering sarcasm as her older sister could.

She was as meek as a mouse and there were times when Melara feared such a nature would work against her in the world she lived in.

People would use her and abuse her and no one would care because she was a woman, and women from noble houses were seen as no better than cattle to be bartered with.

In the Frey household, this was so commonplace it was laughable.

And that was one of the reasons that Melara often worried Roslin. There was no fight or fire in her and she was just as likely to cower in a corner before she would do something violent.

She would obey their father's command and marry the man he chose for her no matter who he was or how bad he was.

She had a good deal of patience as well though that was in direct contrast to Melara's tight as a vice constancy. For all of Roslin's good qualities however, Melara knew her sister wouldn't last long in the world outside of the Twins if she didn't grow a backbone and soon.

"You'll be fine," Melara replied as soothingly as she could. "Olly's staying here with you so you won't be alone."

"I know," Roslin said. "But it's not the same as when you're here. I can't talk to Olly like I can talk to you."

"Well I would hope that there would be a difference in how you talk to Olly and how you talk to me," Melara joked. "There are things that you tell me that would make Olly blush."

Her jesting worked and a small smile crossed Roslin's pale face.

That was another reason that she and all the rest of her brothers worried for Roslin the most out of all of their siblings. She had always been a sickly child, but perhaps that was because Bethany had been ill when she had given birth to her.

Roslin was only a year younger than Melara but she was small for four and ten and not petite either. Where Melara was tall and slender, Roslin was delicate and frail.

She didn't eat enough and she often didn't get enough sleep.

Roslin was pretty in her own right but whenever anyone told her so, she would always smile and say, "you should see my sister. Everyone says she's the beauty of the family."

Melara hated it when Roslin talked like that because she always said it in a sad tone like she wished she could be half as beautiful.

And that wasn't fair.

But then there were many things in this world that weren't fair and just as men were cruel so was beauty, to those who had it and those who didn't.

Melara was different because she didn't care as much but when she was in the walls of the Twins, social convention dictated that she had to wear a dress and look beautiful.

It was bloody annoying at times, but she understood the necessity.

Melara was still a Slytherin at heart and there were times when a snake had to shed its scales and put on new clothes.

She cautioned herself that this was likely to be one of those times.

Roslin still looked nervous and Melara knew for a fact that she was terrified of their father. _I hope Olly can keep an eye on her while we're gone and that nothing bad happens. I'd hate to be labeled a kin slayer if we return and I find out the weasel bastard has hurt Roslin in any way._

Part of the reason Melara disliked her father so much was the fact that he reminded her a good deal, in the physical sense at least of Argus Filch from Hogwarts. She had hated that old man with a passion, not just because he was an embittered squib who was jealous of every child in the castle because they had magic and he didn't, but also because he had been rude, a liar and didn't care about the wellbeing of those around him at all.

 _All that bloody old man gave two shillings about was his damn cat,_ Melara thought wryly to herself as she and Roslin sat on the bed. _I wonder if that flea bitten thing is still alive or if it' died by now._

"Why are you smiling?" Roslin asked and Melara blinked, realizing she had lost herself in the past again.

"No reason," she replied. "Cheer up. We won't be gone for longer than two moon and will return before you know it. Perhaps if you talk to Olly he and you can go and see Ben and Jyanna for a while. I know Osmund and Della would love to see you."

Roslin's face lit up and Melara felt satisfied knowing she had used the right words. Roslin loved her niece and nephew to pieces and the feeling was mutual. Roslin never smiled so much when she was around her brother's children and the color would come back to her face because of it.

It would be good for her to spend some time with them.

"Would you like that?" Melara asked upon seeing the smile on her sister's face.

Roslin nodded eagerly so her older sister nodded sharply. "Good then. I will speak to Olly about going to father and telling him you wish to see Ben. I don't know why he would have a problem with the idea. Ben's keep isn't far. Stay as long as you like as well. I have a feeling father will not care."

And Melara knew he wouldn't.

Walder Frey barely paid attention to anyone other than his three eldest sons and since none of the children Bethany Rosby had given him occupied either of those spots, they pretty much were allowed to do as they wished. Within reason of course.

Soon after, Roslin left to speak with Olly and Melara was once more left alone.

She bolted the door and flopped back down on the bed, knowing she should continue packing but deciding she had a few minutes to get her thoughts together.

In all actuality they would probably be gone for more than two moons as it was several weeks ride to the capital and the tourney would be for at least a week or more with feasts in between that they would have to attend.

They would be gone for around three months Melara was sure, but there was no way she wanted to tell her sister that because she knew it would make Roslin feel even worse.

Hopefully she and Olly would be able to stay with Ben the entire time they were gone unless they were summoned back to the Twins by father.

But Melara had a feeling he wouldn't do that. He was far too busy scheming to pay attention to what his younger children were doing. The antics of some of his older sons were so laughable at times that he had to expend a good deal of energy just bringing them.

She would be fine.

And if she wasn't….well like she said, Melara had no problem getting her own vengeance.

Hell, she had done it in the past.

And if it was necessary…she could do it again.

Ω

The day the three Freys left for the capital with some of their soldiers dawned clear and cool. The temperature had always been slightly colder in the Riverlands than the rest of the south, but it was nowhere near as cold as the north.

Having lived in a place where it was winter nearly six months of the year before the weather turned warm again, Melara was well used to the cold and it didn't affect her.

What did bother her though was that she had to ride in the small Frey wheelhouse while her older brothers rode on horses with their swords at their sides.

Melara knew full well why this was necessary however and so simply grit her teeth together and bid Roslin and Olly goodbye before climbing into the wheelhouse and shutting the door behind her.

The moment they had crossed the bridge and the Twins were out of sight behind them, Melara leaned back in her seat and breathed a sigh of relief.

 _Gods I didn't realize how much I hated that place,_ she thought to herself. _This trip is going to be a much needed sabbatical from the Twins. Part of me wishes that I will find a husband on this trip, marry quickly and never have to return to the Crossing._

That wasn't _really_ how she felt, but it was a testament to how much she hated the place that wishing for her own marriage to get away from it was her first thought.

When she had been Pansy, she had been no stranger to the idea of marrying young. If she hadn't decided to become involved with Ron Weasley, than Pansy might have had an arranged marriage with Draco and married him right out of school.

Seventeen was rather young to be married at but seeing as how she was only a year away from that herself, it wasn't that big of a difference now.

 _Bloody hell how the times have changed,_ Melara thought to herself wryly.

A second later she grimaced as that phrase was so characteristic of Ron Weasley.

There were times when she still missed that weird red head. He hadn't been perfect, but he had been hers and she had loved him fiercely.

After the war, Potter had all but dragged him over so that he could ask her out and Pansy had accepted with a smirk.

They had been together ever since and the brunette was willing to say that it was without a doubt the happiest time in her life.

She would never have imagined herself with Ron Weasley when she was eleven years old but it was ironic what the future had in mind. _I probably would have hexed the person who told me my future into oblivion._

But Ron had been a surprisingly patient individual and a very good listener. He was vocal when he needed to be and she was surprisingly good at talking him down when he was quick to fly completely off the handle as he sometimes did.

They had been a good pair and she had known beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loved her.

Melara felt the corners of her eyes stinging and she cursed before passing a hand before her eyes to rid them of any stray moisture.

Gods, she hated crying. Her face would heat up and her green eyes would turn glossy, making her an embarrassing shade of pink.

When she had still been Pansy, the former Slytherin had conditioned herself from a young age to never cry. She had worked on that conditioning so much she had thought after the war and Daphne died that the only thing she would have been able to feel was abject rage.

Ron had held her until she was able to cry and let it all out and he had earned a special place in her heart for that before he had ever even asked her out.

Melara leaned against the open window of the wheelhouse and looked out at the clear blue sky and the sun that was beginning to break through the clouds high above her. She could hear the sounds of the river even as they rode away from the Twins.

It was the one sound that soothed her in that keep and she had sat by the river for hours in the years past just thinking how different her life was now.

When she had been Pansy, she was someone who was tough, never let her feelings show on her face and had been quick with her hands and even faster with her mouth.

It had been hard but her brothers had had to drill it into her that she needed to control that sharp tongue of hers otherwise it would get her into trouble down the line. Pansy wasn't bothered by it. She knew she had the magic to back up what she said and because all of her family were Muggles of the most pathetic sort, she didn't fear them.

But that didn't mean that she didn't want to protect those who didn't have magic.

Perwyn, Willamen, Benfrey, Olyvar and Roslin were the most people in the entire world to her and she would slaughter a thousand other Freys before she would let any harm come to them.

Melara blinked and shook off the dark thoughts.

 _Now's not the time for that,_ she thought to herself. _Olly and Roslin will no doubt spend the next little while with Ben and gods hope they don't return until we do. With any luck that weasel bastard will be dead soon too._

Now was a time of celebration. The realm was celebrating the appointment of a new Hand and her brothers were to compete in the tourney that was to come.

Perwyn would no doubt do well, but there were times when she was a little worried about Will. He had expressed a desire to be a knight just like Olly had but there were times when she felt he would be much better as a maester. Perwyn and Ben already were knights, they didn't need to add a third.

But there was no way Melara would ever tell him that so she had kept her silence and watched and supported her brother whenever he picked up a sword.

 _I hope for his sake that he does well in the tourney,_ Melara thought as she leaned out the window and watched Will riding with Perwyn at the head of the small column of Freys.

The two were riding their black destriers and talking quietly amongst themselves. Wyn would no doubt be telling Will about what to do in the tourney and what to avoid as he had competed in tourneys before.

 _He'll do well,_ Melara thought looking at her brother with pride. Wyn had been knighted a while ago and he was a good, decent and honest man who would no doubt be a fine ruler of his own keep one day.

 _I wish to god he would be the Lord of the Twins and the Crossing after the Lord Weasel passes,_ Melara thought to herself. _He would be far better than Edwyn. The gods only know what a cold unfeeling imbecile he is._

Of course there were times when she herself could be cold and unfeeling but that had more to do with her desire to protect herself and guard her magic as well as her memories of the past.

 _We all do what we have to do in order to survive in this world,_ she thought. _But there are some of us who deserve to survive more than others._

Later that night when they had called for a halt by the river as they had reached the Kingsroad, the three Frey siblings were all sitting by the fire talking amongst themselves while the guards kept watch.

"You're awfully quiet sister," Perwyn observed from his place as he ate his meal and watched her. "Is something bothering you?"

"Not at all Wyn," Melara responded smoothly. "I am simply glad to be on a new adventure."

"Adventure?" her oldest brother asked laughing. "We're not going to war sweet sister, this is a mere tourney."

"Even still," Melara said calmly. "It can be good to get away from the Twins for a while."

Wyn and Will exchanged knowing looks. "I know it can be rather frustrating Melara, but don't worry. Soon father will find a high lord to marry you off to and you will never have to see the inside of the Twins again."

Melara rolled her eyes at her brother. "You make it sound so easy don't you? I don't wish to be married simply for the sake of leaving the Twins. Contrary to popular belief, I might actually like to marry someone that I may love."

The look on Will's face turned sad. "As much as I would love that for you sweet sister, you know it always doesn't work that way."

"I know," Melara said bitterly as she looked down at her food and thought of Ron. "But that doesn't mean that I can't wish it were so."

There was a long uncomfortable silence in which the siblings looked anywhere but at each other.

Finally Perwyn spoke up again. "Cheer up sister and put a smile on that beautiful face. You may just find your prince in King's Landing."

Melara smirked at him. "What if I don't want a prince? What if I want a warrior instead? What if I want someone who can keep up with me and doesn't possess the intelligence of a tree stump for a partner?"

Despite the joke, Will burst out laughing, lighting the mood immediately. "You just may find that too sweet sister. You must may find that too."

Melara laughed at her brothers.

Contrary to popular belief she really wasn't thinking about marriage and the idea of being with someone that her father picked out was nauseating to her.

She comforted herself with the knowledge that if she didn't like who it was, she could simply just run, disguise herself as a man and get on a boat to the Free Cities. With her magic it wouldn't be hard to find work and she could make a living for herself in one of the beautiful cities there.

She smiled to herself.

It was a nice dream but one that wasn't likely to happen.

And then the words of her father, her _real_ father came back to her out of the fog of the distant past.

 _If you don't like your lot in life Pans….change it._

Ω

 _Several weeks later…_

 _I will give the place this much….it certainly is big._

After several weeks' worth of travel Melara and the rest of her Frey relations had arrived at the capital to great fanfare to celebrate the tourney of the new Hand.

It seemed that the entire realm had turned out to observe the event as well and the amount of banners she had seen in the city was nothing short of astonishing.

 _One would think that the nobles had turned up for a royal wedding with the amount of men that are here._

Thankfully they had arrived a day before the tourney was supposed to start and right now Melara was wandering the halls of the keep after allowing the servants to unpack her things in the chambers that had been set aside for them.

The Red Keep had many rooms and not even three quarters of them were filled with the amount of people that had come for the event.

Melara had seen the Tullys, the Tyrells, the Hightowers, Baratheons, Starks, Lannisters, and more.

There had been no Arryns to speak of but that was understandable given that the heir to the Vale was still only a child no more than ten years old.

Her brothers had gone off to speak to some of the other lords and left her to her own devices, so Melara had taken to wandering the keep.

The Freys had been some of the last to arrive and the keep was already full of people. She had lost count of the admiring looks she had received but all they did was cause her lips to curl and a sneer to appear on her pretty mouth.

 _Gods don't these people have anything better to do?_

It wasn't until she had come across one of the larger balconies that Melara did discover someone doing something interesting.

The sound of laboured grunts caught her attention and she looked up to see a small figure dancing back and forth across one of the balconies with a long thin sword in her hand.

She had short brown hair and a rather determined expression on her face and in her grey eyes as she lunged at an imaginary foe.

She was dressed in a tunic and breeches like a man with her hair tied back and it was plainly obvious that she was practicing the water dancing technique.

Melara stood and watched her for a moment, remembering when her brothers had taught her the same thing. _She has to be a Stark, no one else has grey eyes like hers and those are characteristic of the wolves of the north._

She had known how to use a sword before coming to Westeros but water dancing was very different from sword play that she had known.

It was more elegant and really was more like a dance, plainly used for ceremonial fighting but Melara supposed it did have its uses.

Melara watched her in amusement for a moment before she stepped out from the shadows.

"You're holding it wrong."

The girl whirled around, startled. When she saw who it was, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

She didn't curtsy but given what Melara had caught her doing before she had come along, she didn't expect her to.

"Who are you?" she demanded as she took in the Frey girl.

Melara wasn't put off by her tone, in fact it reminded her of herself when she was a demanding eleven year old. Instead, she decided to answer the girl with bluntness of her own tone.

"Melara," she said. "Melara Frey. What's yours?"

The girl's eyes narrowed in suspicion even further if that were possible. "Arya Stark."

Ah, so she was a Stark. That was interesting. _Now what is the daughter of the Hand of the King doing with a sword? That is something that I would really like to know._

The two regarded each other for a long time with eyes unblinking before Arya chose that moment to speak up again. "You said I was holding it wrong. What was I doing wrong?"

"May I?" Melara asked and Arya reluctantly handed the small thin sword over.

"You're twisting your wrist too much," she demonstrated the movement. "Your arm should be relaxed…..like you're holding a quill and are about to write something."

She handed the sword back to her and she regarded her for a moment before demonstrating the proper movement. "Like this?"

Melara nodded. "Just like that. Whatever you do don't move your arm from that position. Keep a tight but firm hold and you won't strain yourself."

Arya practiced the movement for a moment, but then stopped and looked at her carefully.

Melara frowned. "What?"

"You're a Frey," Arya said almost as if it were an accusation.

Melara laughed. "So I am, and you're a Stark. But what of it?"

"Why are you being nice to me?" Arya demanded. "And how do you know how to use a sword anyway. You're a girl like I am."

Melara chuckled again. "An astute observation. My brother's taught me how to use a sword. I've been using one since I was six."

Well that wasn't entirely truthful if she counted her first life before Westeros, but that was better left unexplained.

Arya looked a little envious. "I wish my mother had let me learn. But she wants me to be proper lady just like Sansa."

 _Sansa must be her sister._

"I imagine if my mother had lived she would have wanted me to be proper lady too," Melara said. "But there's something I learned that I took to heart. If you don't like your lot in life….change it."

"Is Lord Frey married though?" Arya asked in suspicion.

Melara rolled her eyes. "Yes and the Lord Weasel of the Twins is currently on wife number six. But you didn't hear that from me."

Arya's eyes widened. "His sixth wife? Gods how many children does he have?"

"I've lost count," Melara admitted. "I'm only one in a sea of daughters and sons. But that's alright. That means he doesn't notice when I learn how to fight with a sword or shoot a bow. I get a lot more freedom."

Arya's suspicion abated somewhat. "But why are you being nice to me?"

Melara smirked. "I don't think you understood me. You were doing something wrong and I corrected you. I didn't think that was something that could strictly be considered nice."

Arya's suspicion returned in her grey eyes. "I mean aren't all Freys – "

She cut herself off then and looked a bit bashful.

"Go on," Melara said knowing she was about to repeat something she had heard from someone else. "Say it."

Arya looked up at her. "Aren't all Freys untrustworthy?"

Melara wasn't offended. Arya wasn't entirely wrong after all.

"For the most part that's true," she said as she gave Arya back her sword and headed for the stairs of the balcony once more resume her walk. "But there's one thing you don't know."

"And what's that?" Arya called after her.

Melara turned and smirked at her. "You haven't met all of us."

Ω

 **So I don't want you guys to think that just because Arya and Melara spoke that they're going to be all buddy buddy now. In fact this is going to be the only conversation they have until the Red Wedding. I also feel the need to explain a few things about Melara/Pansy. There's not a lot of character development on her in the books, but we do know that she's bold, brash and protective of what she feels is hers. I wanted to capitalize on those traits here. She's also not afraid to get her hands dirty when the situation calls for it, and she will have to before this story is over. Okay, that's it for now. I introduced Perwyn in this one as I wasn't able to in the last chapter, and he's going to be an interesting character going forward as he's one of the few good Freys. Don't forget to review and enjoy!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Though it took a lot to impress her, Melara did find the tourney interesting. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before and the thundering of horses and the shouts of men and clashes of swords fighting in the melee brought her back to a more childish time when she had more of her innocence.

During the tourney, she was allowed to forget what was happening at home or her insane lunatic of a father with a taste for fondling young girls and she even for a moment forgot about Roslin and Olyvar.

Perwyn competed in the tourney and made it through several rounds before he was defeated in the melee.

Melara ensured that he was not hurt and didn't suffer any injuries along with Willamen who competed earlier than he did and lost a round before.

She was rather impressed that such a young knight as Loras Tyrell defeated the Mountain in the tourney and even more shocked when the monstrous man attempted to go after the teen who looked not much older than she was with his great sword.

She could feel the magic bristling in her veins and was about to do something until Ser Gregor's other monstrous brother Sandor leapt into the ring to stop him.

 _So this is the toy and lapdog of the Lannisters,_ Melara thought to herself as she watched the monstrous man stomp out of the arena. _There's a rumor that he was the one to rape and murder Elia Martell after he bashed her son's head against the wall. I've done a lot of things in my first life that I'm not proud of. But any man who kills a child…there is a special circle of hell for people like that._

Soon she forgot about home and her conversation with her sister. With any luck, Roslin and Ollie had gone to stay with Benfrey for a while and this would put them out of reach from their father if Lord Walder had a moment of insanity.

She did have to admit though that the feasts were a lovely affair if not for the constant drinking and the thinly veiled looks that people were sending each other across the room.

 _Gods its all rather like the Yule Balls we used to throw at school only this time there will be more than a few people getting laid tonight._

She smirked to herself as she watched the couple's dancing and was a little surprised when the victor of the tourney's older brother, Garlan Tyrell asked her to dance.

That evening, Melara was clad in a pale green gown the same color of her eyes. It was in the Highgarden style and something her brother Ben had brought back for her after concluding some business in the Reach a few years ago.

With an open back and a sliver clasp at her waist along with her hair styled in the fashion of Highgarden many people who saw her that night would have said that Melara Frey would put even Margaery Tyrell to shame.

Garlan seemed rather charmed by her and he appeared to be the one individual in the keep that evening who was still in command of his mental faculties. Being the second son, he didn't stand to inherit a lot but there would be a reasonably sized keep under his command and he would enjoy the trust and command of some of his father's bannermen.

Melara could just hear her father crowing about arranging a marriage for his daughter with a Tyrell. Knowing him however, he would want for her to marry the heir to Highgarden Willas Tyrell himself.

The future Lord of the Reach was not in the capital at the time but Melara was surprised when Garlan mentioned something about inviting the Freys to Highgarden at the conclusion of the Hand's Tourney.

When Melara mentioned this to her brothers later that evening after the rather large feast to celebrate the start of the tourney, they had exchanged glances and looked rather impressed.

"Well done Melara," Will said looking amused. "I know you don't like being compared to father but I think with the amount of ambition that you have it isn't as far of a stretch anymore."

Melara glared at him. "The day I inherit anything from that old bastard is the day that the seven hells will freeze over. I may have ambition but it is ambition to keep my family safe and if I somehow do end up marrying above my station, it will be to get each and every one of my family out of that rat hole we call the twins."

Will now just looked alarmed and Perwyn looked shocked. "Mel, I know you don't like it there but surely – "

"Don't like it there?" Melara asked softly interrupting her older siblings. "Wyn, I don't think you've understood me, I _hate_ it there. Our father has no regard for any of his children, us included and he would sooner sell us to slavers if he thought it would benefit him or make his name more well-known and our other siblings are no better. I am sick and tired of the lack of justice that I see both in that house and among our other half siblings. So yes, if I ever do receive the opportunity to marry at all, I will leave that place behind and I will be taking Roslin with me."

Both of her older brothers exchanged glances at her rather vehement outburst which they had not seen before.

Melara knew she had a sarcastic streak as sharp as the swords her brothers had given her for her name day not long ago and it was only going to grow worse as she became older.

She would be six and ten before long and she knew for a fact that whoever she married might not like that about her.

Frankly, she didn't really care. She had no qualms about using Unforgivables and had performed them more than once in previous life. She would never have used them on people that she cared about and hadn't done so with others often. In fact since the war, none of the words had passed her lips.

But now that she was a lady of a great house and being such a woman was already disadvantageous, she needed to use whatever skills she had and so that was where the sword fighting and the use of curses she hadn't used since she was a Slytherin had come into play.

But Melara was pragmatic that way, so was Pansy Parkinson.

Miraculously, she still looked like Pansy and even referred to herself by her old name in private sometimes as it was the only way she could hold onto to some part of herself that was still the annoying judgemental, person she was before she became a badass part of the DCRDC and had been totally screwed over by life to end up a daughter of a great house in one of the most archaic societies she had ever seen.

So she used what she had access to, had no qualms about killing people and didn't really give a damn what anyone else thought of her.

Despite her sarcasm, that part of her hadn't changed at all.

But there would be a time coming when even that was put to the test.

Ω

 _Four months later…_

 _Bloody hell this just blows._

Melara, now six and ten was waving goodbye to her brothers and the small Frey army as they left to go and help liberate Riverrun. Wyn, Will Olly and Ben were among them and the amount of choice curses that Melara was mouthing would have made both of the mothers she had had pass out.

In the last four months the entire world had gone to hell and she had watched the firestorm from inside the Twins wondering just how worse things could possibly get.

For starters, the king had kicked the bucket being an unbelievable moron for drinking before hunting and then being gored by a wild hog. Rumor had it that the Hand of the King

Eddard Stark had attempted to take the throne so he might have been regent but he was arrested on charges of treason for accusing the queen of incest and that the royal children were not those of the king.

Needless to say, his entire retinue had been slaughtered, his daughters taken captive and the lord himself imprisoned.

The rest of the realm didn't know what to think.

Apparently the Hand had been imprisoned for weeks and subjected to rather harsh treatments before he was dragged before the sept of Baelor to answer for his crimes. He had admitted before the entire city that the charges of treason and incest were false but the new boy king had still taken his head off as a traitor to the realm and had it stuck on a spike in front of his children.

As much of a bitch as she had been in previous life, Melara knew for a second that she never would have done something like that.

And now the entire realm had gone to war, erupted in flames over the Hand's death and the entire north had risen up in open rebellion.

And that was not to mention before the executioner had taken his head, the realm had already been on the verge of was because of the mess Lady Catelyn Stark had made.

Because of some reason that Melara didn't understand, the former Tully had kidnapped Tyrion Lannister, the youngest son of the most powerful man in Westeros and had taken him to the Vale so he would face charges for whatever crime she thought he had committed.

Frankly Melara thought it was all hogwash. She had never seen the Imp before but he had been described to her and from what she had learned he didn't have the physical capability to do anything dangerous let alone criminal. But who knows? He might have just surprised her.

Because of his abduction the full strength of the Lannisters led by his brother Ser Jaime had unleashed havoc in the Riverlands and blocked the passage to the ancestral castle of Riverrun so that it might not be liberated and they could continue to do their dirty work.

The Tullys had thus called upon all of their bannermen including the Freys to liberate the keep and rid the Riverlands of the Lannisters.

Robb Stark, the son of the late Warden of the North had called the banners of the north and marched south to liberate his sisters and avenge his father's death.

They had been delayed however because there had been the need to rid the Lannisters from Tully lands and liberate his uncle and free up the river lords.

In order to do so they had needed to cross the bridge of the Twins to get on to free Riverrun. Walder had delayed in joining the war against the Lannisters because he wanted to see who would win even though he was a sworn bannermen of the Tullys.

However, as war had been going badly for the House of Trout, he had questioned his own need to get involved, risking his own soldiers and sons for what might have been a lost cause.

In some ways Melara agreed with him which was shocking to her, but in other ways her father's borderline treachery made her sick. She was a Slytherin at heart and always would be, but something she did firmly believe in was keeping her promises.

She was angry that her brothers would have to be the ones who participated in this fight but at the same time, she could blame someone else for the fact that promises would have to be kept.

Her own father had been in negotiations with Catelyn Stark for days and no one knew what they had talked about, but when Melara had returned from seeing her sister in law and her nieces and nephew just down the river, the army of the Starks was gone and her own father was beside himself with glee.

He would tell her yet what they had spoken of but at the same time, she could imagine that it wasn't good.

And then her own brothers had left.

They were currently doing battle with the Lannisters and so all four of them had left to join the fight, something that thoroughly annoyed Melara.

Will was a healer, not a fighter, there was no way he should have been heading off to war.

Olly had just turned seventeen and was barely older than she was. He was still a boy and yet he was going to war.

Roslin clutched a hold of her arm as the sons of Lord Frey galloped across the bridge and away from the Twins on their way to a war more powerful men had started.

To be honest, Melara was angry.

She was angry because she had been through this before. In her first life a man who had more power than he knew what to do with had begun a war that other people had had to fight twice and people had died. Most of the time it was the people who hadn't asked for the war to start who would suffer the most.

Given the fact that she was the daughter of a lesser lord, it would be her family that would have to pay for the mistakes of more powerful men and would most likely die because of it which was what had happened in the last war.

Pansy Parkinson hadn't been able to save her family and friends in her first life and she had almost torn apart her enemies when Daphne had died and it had been a long time before she was alright with the world again after losing her best friend.

If that was the way she reacted when she lost someone who wasn't related to her, Melara began to tremble when she thought of what she would do, who she would kill if someone took her brothers from her.

Roslin seemed to be similarly effected but in a more emotional manner as there were tears in her eyes as she clutched at her sister's arm. "Will they be alright?"

"I'm sure of it," Melara said, doing her best to reassure her younger sister. "Wyn will look out for them all and they will be home before you know it."

She wished she could be as sure as she sounded. The truth was, there were times when Muggles were even more dangerous than wizards or witches. And now that she had actually seen them fight, she was even more worried.

But mostly she was just angry. Through the selfish actions of Lady Catelyn Stark her own lands had been invaded and now more men were going to die through her foolish whims. If she had waited for whatever reason to achieve this justice that she was so desiring of, perhaps it could have been done in a better way and war might have been avoided.

At the very least her brothers wouldn't be going to fight in a war that was not their own.

The Freys and their foot soldiers would be joining with the Stark army to liberate Riverrun and then move on to the south where they would be able to try and sack the capital and bring the young wolf's sisters back.

Somehow Melara didn't think that the young wolf knew what he was getting into. He wasn't that much older than her and yet he didn't know what he was doing.

War was bloody and tragic and damned everyone who participated in it and no one knew that better than those who participated in the rebellion from sixteen years earlier. It had ended a year before she was born and yet the effects of it were still being felt to this day.

And now her brothers were going to pay for the mistakes of several idiotic men who had brought their own fates down upon their heads.

The whole realm was going to pay for it.

She who had been through a war knew exactly what to expect from what happened and what came after when people did things that they shouldn't, when wounds were opened that could not be closed.

 _I swear to all the gods that may or may not exist in this world that if something happens to any of my brothers as a result of this thrice damned war whether by the Starks or by the Lannisters I will hunt both families to the end of the earth and slaughter them all._

This internal promise made, Melara turned around and ushered her sister back into the Twins. "Come on Roslin. They will be back before we know it. This war is nothing that will not be taken care of in time."

"Do you think so?" the younger girl asked hopefully.

 _No sister…no I do not._

Ω

A week or so passed before Melara heard anything and by that point she was ready to draw blood.

Her father had been as unbearable as he always was along with her own half siblings. Roslin had worried herself sick literally and had been confined to her bed which didn't help Melara's patience at all.

She loved her sister, she really did but at the same time, Roslin had no disposition to be anything other than a house wife. She would bear children and she would raise them and then she would die.

Needless to say Melara felt a little guilty thinking this way about her own sister but Roslin wasn't helping herself with her constant cowering. If she didn't learn to stand up for herself, her life would be short and miserable.

And speaking of miserable, she had just received a letter from the maester of the Twins that had revealed to be from her eldest brother Wyn and she had torn into it right away.

 _Dearest sister_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. Before you burst into a towering rage know that I and Will and Ben and Olly are all well. The Warrior has been good to us and has granted us courage and skill in battle so we have been able to avoid any injuries that might have come our way. Oddly enough I myself have been somewhat ingratiated in Robb Stark's service. Though he is younger than I, he is a fierce commander and a skilled strategist. He will make an excellent king. Though we are nearing Riverrun the fight is long from over. I only wrote this hasty note to tell you that we are all well and for you to not worry and not scare the keep servants to death like you normally do when you are angry or worried._

 _Love Perwyn_

Melara snorted. Her brother was never one to mince his words but at the same time even he had been remarkably reticent in this letter. She knew the reason he had kept her mostly in the dark about their activities.

She had a reputation among her siblings for being decidedly ambitious but she would not be used. She had a cold temper and an even worse vendetta and she always followed through on her plans for revenge.

Some of those plans came from watching her best friend die in the war and inflicting the Cruciatus curse upon her killer until he was choking on his own blood.

Pansy had had no enemies because she had killed them all…and Melara was very much the same way.

Still…it was good to know that all of her brothers were alright. Wyn and Ben wouldn't let Will and Olly make any sort of foolish decisions. Her four brothers were too much like brash Gryffindors, but Wyn and Ben had just enough Ravenclaw in them to curb some of the younger one's foolish tendencies.

Wyn's section of the letter where he had ingratiated himself into Robb Stark's service was interesting to say the least. Perhaps there were some redeeming qualities about this young wolf if he had the ability to be only slightly younger than her and launch successful military campaigns.

 _Let's see if he makes it all the way to the capital,_ she thought to herself with grim amusement. _If he manages to succeed in getting his sisters back then I will be truly impressed. Of course in order to do that, he will need to utterly wipe out the Lannisters and if he does that…than his nobles and advisors will be pressing for him to take the throne himself. That will be…interesting to say the least. But let us wait to see what happens first. All I care about is that my brothers are safe and well. But perhaps I should check on them to say the least._

Like Draco Malfoy, the former Pansy Parkinson had been a potions prodigy while she was still at Hogwarts and it had been a point of pride with her that there were times when she had gotten even better potions grades than Granger, something that had infuriated the brunette when they were still in school.

 _Perhaps I should see about making some more potions and taking them to their camp. I know the potions won't be the same as they would be in England because we do not have nearly the same ingredients here. But at least it will be something. I've been wearing a path in the floor for weeks because of the silence. It's time I did something about it._

She set the letter down and took a deep breath, wondering how she was going to go about this. The world had gone to the seven hells in the last four months and as soon as the Hand had been executed, whatever plans had been made by many of the families in the realm had been shot.

As soon as the tourney had concluded, Melara and her brothers had returned to the Twins and she had never heard from Garlan Tyrell again.

So much for the promises of the south.

While Melara didn't have many thoughts on the second son of Mace Tyrell, he had seemed nice enough and would perhaps have been someone that she might have been happy with.

Of course when Wyn informed their father that she had made a favorable impression Garlan Tyrell, he hadn't been pleased.

It was the ambition of Walder Frey to marry one of his daughters to the son of a Lord Paramount and given the fact that the heir of the Westerlands was a member of the Kingsguard, the heir of the east was still a boy, the heir to the south seemed to be the strongest contender to be the husband of one of her father's daughters.

Of course there was also the new Warden of the North Robb Stark but at the moment that seemed to be the farthest thing from her father's mind.

They were too busy fighting a war.

Melara tossed the letter into the fire having already memorized it and not wanting to leave it around for anyone to see.

 _I should most likely go into the woods to see about finding some herbs that I can use as supplements for potions. I have a feeling that my brothers are going to need it before this bloody war is over._

And so, over the next few days Melara focused on brewing. She didn't have the traditions cauldron like she would have liked to have had, so instead she had to use a pot but the results were almost the same.

She also had to be careful cooking the potions over the fire in her own room as she didn't want anyone to smell it.

Thankfully the one thing that they had in Westeros that they had also had in England were moon stones.

Moon stones were essential in healing potions and that was something that Melara was most interested in.

Moon stones were had been some of that crazy bat Trelawney's favorite stones and she claimed that they promoted a person's aura, supported the heart and carried the energy of the moon which provided energy to the person wearing it.

Melara didn't know how much of that was actually true, but she did know that moon stones were used in healing potions to settle upset stomachs, and strengthen the internal organs as well as promote the swiftness of healing wounds.

It was a very practical stone and mineral and she had found an enormous quantity of moon stones in the creek bed in the forest near the Twins which was most assuredly an odd place for them to be but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.|

After gathering the appropriate amount of moon stones and herbs and shrubs necessary as well several flowers with medicinal properties, Melara took the necessary ingredients back to her room, took the deepest thickest pot she could find from the kitchen of the keep of the Twins and brought it to her room where she remained for the next few days brewing the potions and bottling them so she could take them to her brothers and see for herself whether or not they were doing well.

She checked on Roslin every so often but her sister spent most of her time sleeping and only awakened for a few hours every day to eat something before going back to sleep.

Roslin had a very fragile disposition and this departure of all four of their brothers to fight in a war that no one wanted and that people had died and would die in was something that was weighing heavily on her.

Melara loved her sister but during these times, she had no patience for Roslin's delicate position and she left the keep servants to take care of her.

Roslin had always been sickly but this time, it was a self-enforced sickness as a result of their brothers being gone and the future being uncertain.

When the potions were complete, Melara sent a raven to her brothers asking where they were encamped on their way to Riverrun and then had to wait for a few days to ensure that the raven came in and her brother gave her an exact location.

When word came in that they had just completed a battle at Oxcross and would remain there for a few days more, Melara seized her chance.

She knocked on the door of her father's solar and steeled herself to use compulsion if she had to in order to allow him to let her go, but one way or another, she was leaving the Twins to see to her brothers and he could go to the seven hells if he didn't agree.

"Come!"

Melara took a deep breath and pushed open the door to her father's messy solar. He was sitting at a table covered in papers and letters and reading through a stack of them.

He looked up upon her approach and a greedy smile covered his face that made her skin crawl. "Ah, Melara darling I was just about to send for you."

She raised an eyebrow. "You were father? How fortunate seeing as how there is something that I wish to discuss with you as well."

"That can wait my dear, have a seat. Please sit down I have rather exciting news to share with you."

He seemed so beside himself with glee that Melara suddenly felt herself becoming worried. He never was usually this happy and a cold feeling settled in her stomach.

The only reason her father would have to be happy was when alliances were made and agreements were held that benefited House Frey or that he got something that he wanted.

Something along those lines had to have happened.

"Very well then," she said sitting down gracefully in the chair across from her father. "What did you wish to tell me?"

"Do you recall a week ago when the army of the north was allowed passage across the bridge to entire the rest of the Riverlands?" he asked and Melara wanted to roll her eyes at him.

"Of course I do, who could miss such a massive army? But what of it?"

Walder rubbed his hands together like a child about to partake in his favorite sweet. "Lady Catelyn Stark the mother of the newly crowned king in the north and I have spent several hours in negotiations about what the Freys would gain from having the Starks use our bridge."

All of a sudden Melara had a sudden feeling she knew what her father was going to say. "And may I assume that these negotiations had something to do with me? An alliance perhaps?"

Walder's eyes gleamed even brighter. "Again, you are correct dear. I have negotiated an agreement that in exchange for the Starks using our bridge that you will wed Robb Stark. You will be the new queen in the north."

Melara wished she could say she was surprised. Her father had always been one to shoot for the moon when it came to making alliances and it had galled him that the Freys did not have as much influence as the other great houses. And now the perfect opportunity to see her married to one of the most powerful men in the known world had fallen into his lap and he had pounced on it like a cat jumping on a mouse.

She wasn't sure what to feel.

Marriage had been an inevitable part of her life as Pansy Parkinson and before she had died, she intended to marry Ron Weasley because she loved him and would have been happy with him. And now it was beginning all over again.

She had been a pureblood in her first life and while her parents had joined the light side, they were still people who had believed in the efficiency of arranged marriages. Their marriage had been arranged and it had turned into a love match over the years which was something very few witches and wizards had found in the pureblood community.

Callum and Gwendolyn Parkinson had been lucky and the former Pansy had known deep down that she would want to have a marriage like theirs someday.

Which was why it had surprised her when she had fallen in love with Ron because she hadn't been expecting it. She had never thought that she would have something like that and that marriage was something that had to be worked at in order to love someone. While she still believed that, she was surprised that with him the love came first and the work came later as opposed to the other way around.

Loving Ron had surprised her and even though she knew she would never see him again, it was still a memory she would hold dear. Ron Weasley would always have a piece of her heart and she knew that was never going to change.

And again, she wasn't opposed to the idea of an arranged marriage because to her it wasn't a bad thing. Arranged marriages had been common place in her first life and before she met Ron she had fully expected one to be arranged for her.

What she was surprised at was who she would be marrying as marrying the new King in the North was an ambition even she didn't think Walder would succeed at.

But it seemed he had.

She didn't even know Robb Stark, but that wasn't what bothered her. What bothered her was the fact that he was leading men, good men including all four of her brothers that she would kill for into a war that might cost them all dearly.

It was to avenge his father and save his sisters which was a noble enough sentiment…but he was barely older than she was.

Perhaps it was the world she was simply irritated with.

Walder took her silence for surprise and rightly so. "Now your wedding is to be in a few weeks my dear. Cheer up and put a smile on that beautiful face. Your head will wear the crown of the north and my descendants will be Starks, who were once kings in the north and will be so again."

 _Listen here old man, if I ever do have children you won't know them at all._

Truthfully Melara couldn't think of a reason to disagree because she didn't have one. It wasn't like this was a new idea other than the person she would be marrying.

But if Robb Stark thought he was going to have some demure sort of flowery Frey girl he was in for a rude awakening.

"Very well father," she said somewhat tightly.

Walder looked pleased. "Now what was it that you wanted girl?"

The beautiful brunette took a deep breath then and put forth her request to go and see her sister in law for a few days to keep her company since Benfrey was gone.

He agreed without much protest and waved her off soon after, no doubt to continue his own wretched plans.

Melara rose then and walked out of the study, feeling both shell shocked and irritated that he had sprung this on her with little to no warning.

That was the one difference between this life and her last in terms of marriage, she had always had some warning in England.

Most betrothals were arranged when the pureblood children were still children and so they had had some time to get to know each other at least.

But here, marriages could be arranged and the weddings held within weeks of the arrangement itself which was a bit like a whirlwind to her.

She sighed and shook her head. _I had better get going to Oxcross. Perhaps I will meet my future husband there and see if whether or not he's actually worthy of the name king. And with any luck my expectations will not be disappointed._

Ω

When Melara apparated to Oxcross, she was quick to disillusion herself right away so that her brothers would not see her. She wanted to see them but at the same time if they knew she was there, Wyn would no doubt blow a gasket along with Ben.

And that was something she didn't want to deal with at the moment.

Along with her, she brought her sack full of potions and bandages as well as the other healing potions she had managed to create which had supplemented ingredients in them.

She would leave several of them in her brothers' tents along with a few sets of bandages and then she would go on her way.

But the scene that awaited her in the aftermath of the battle was appalling.

It was on a wide plain field with several trees scattered around and soldiers marching past carrying the white and grey banner of House Stark in full armor. There were soldiers both from the northern army and the southern army of the Lannisters lying about on the ground and in the distance she could see tents of the royal party of the king in the north set up.

But she barely paid attention to those when she saw the amount of carnage lying about her on the field.

 _For the love of all the gods do I hate war,_ she snarled mentally.

Melara closed her eyes and took a deep breath but instantly regretted it for the scent that filled her nostrils was one of blood decay and wood smoke.

Not a pleasant combination.

Melara clenched her fists and swallowed hard, choking down the bile that was rising in her throat and took a sharp breath in through her teeth.

Step by step she began making her way across the field toward the tents that had been set up in the distance and hopefully to find where her brothers' tents were.

Along the way she began to see more and more soldiers lying about on the ground either dead or dying and among them there was an abundance of Lannister and Stark soldiers.

Their groans were terrible to her ears and unbidden, she felt a lump well up in her throat and tears fill her eyes for the abject suffering of those who didn't ask to be here, didn't want to be here and had no business being here.

 _Damn them,_ she thought to herself furiously. _Damn them all for starting wars that lesser men will have to pay for. Damn them for deciding to snuff out thousands of lives on account of their petty revenge. Damn them for sending young boys like these in to die for the crimes of someone else. Damn them all._

She took a deep breath and continued on, finally making her way to the maze of tents that had been set up on the edge of the battle field most likely after the slaughter and looked around for the tents bearing the banners of House Frey.

It didn't take Melara long to find them and when she hurried forward and slipped into the first one, she was surprised to see her youngest brother Olyvar asleep on his cot in the tent. His armor was hanging up across the tent and he was snoring rather heavily.

As humorous as he looked, Melara just felt a surge of relief upon seeing that he was unharmed and wasted no time in dropping off her potions.

She planned on leaving a note with the potions so they would know what to do with them and then perhaps they could get upset with her later.

Because the sun was beginning to go down, she found all of her brothers in a similar state of slumber when she entered their tents and did the same things in the next three as she had done with Olly before departing.

Instead of apparating away from the battlefield immediately however, Melara suddenly felt the need to have a look around. She wasn't really someone for whom sympathy was found but at the same time, the scene before her reminded her so much of the aftermath of the battle of Hogwarts and the amount of bodies she had seen there.

Only this time, the bodies were moving and perhaps there was something she might be able to do for some of them as she hadn't before.

Looking around carefully to make sure there weren't any other Frey soldiers about as they would undoubtedly recognize her and demand to know what she was doing there,

Melara released the spell concealing her and decided to work quickly in a section of Lannister soldiers where she was certain that none of the northern army would be.

She refrained from using magic to aid in the wounds of many of the Lannister soldiers and simply went about it the Muggle way, by tying up her long black curls and getting to work.

Working in a dress was hardly efficient but at the same time, she hadn't brought any clothes with her and apparating back to the Twins to get some before coming back wasn't really ideal, so she made do with what she had.

To ensure that no one would notice her, she quickly pulled the hood of the cloak she was wearing over her head. It wasn't as good as the magical means of disguise, but at the same time it was all she had.

She could only imagine the chaos if she tried to heal someone while disillusioned.

She had had to learn to do a great many things the Muggle way in the last six and ten years in Westeros.

Melara became so engrossed in her task of dealing with a Lannister soldier who would need to have his foot amputated because of an infection that she didn't even hear the sound of footstep approaching.

"Ser, you are going to need to hold still," she said as gently as she could, one of the bandages she had brought with her thrown about her shoulder. "Your life may be saved but your foot will not and somehow I think you would prefer the former."

Somehow the man didn't seem to be in his right mind as his eyes were glazed and his forehead was sweaty and perspiring from infection.

"No," he muttered. "No please don't take it."

"You don't have a choice ser," she said somewhat tightly even though she didn't know if he was a knight or not. "Lose your foot or lose your life. Now which will it be?"

 _I'm going to have to bloody amputate it,_ Melara thought with some distaste. When she was still at the Twins healing had been something that had fascinated her but at the same time amputation was only something she had read about but never done. _Gods give me strength._

But first she would need the man still in order to do it.

Reaching inside of her pack she removed a potion she had made for sleeping which she had had extra of. They had been designed to help her brothers get their rest as being part of an army was an occupation where they would undoubtedly get very little of it. The better rested they were, the more chance they had for survival.

She had just pulled it out when all of a sudden, two hands came out of nowhere and placed themselves upon the man's shoulders, pushing him gently back to the ground.

Melara looked up surprised to see someone helping her and was instantly met with a pair of blue eyes framed by curls so dark a red they were almost black. He was a young man not much older than she was and dressed in full armor. There was a long sword at his waist and he bore the direwolf of House Stark upon his chest. He was lean and handsome but that wasn't what drew Melara's attention.

It was the knowledge he had several men following him as if they were his personal guard. She didn't see any Freys among them as she would have recognized their distinctive features right away. But this guard betrayed the fact that this man was important.

"Your grace, we should be moving on," one of the man from behind him said and she realized with a start who this man must be.

 _Could this perhaps be Robb Stark?_ She thought to herself absently.

The Lannister man immediately groaned which drew her attention back to him.

She quickly uncorked the potion and opened the man's throat, forcing it down his gullet. The effects were almost instantaneous and his eyes rolled back up into his head and he slumped down to the ground.

"What did you do?" the man asked whom she was now certain was Robb Stark given that she could think of no other person who would merit the title of _your grace._

"A potion that brings about instant sleep," Melara said without making contact with the man. "An old family recipe. He won't feel a thing."

She took a look at the man's foot once more and wondered if one of the potions in her bag would be enough to stave off infection. She could imagine the man's horror when he realized that he would be a cripple for the rest of his life.

 _It's worth a try,_ she thought to herself and pulled one of the bandaged from her bag so she might douse it in one of the other potions before wrapping it around the man's foot and securing it with another.

By now, a cart had come along which was bearing away the wounded and Melara looked up to gesture to it to come closer.

Once it had done so, she stepped aside and let the other man driving the cart lift the Lannister soldier into it before shutting the small gate and watching it drive off.

It was only after that she realized she was rather grimy both from the ground and the blood from the man's wound.

She calmly began to put her items back into her bag, suddenly realizing she had wasted enough time being here.

Melara could feel the man's eyes on her, but she didn't look back. She suddenly felt rather irritated by his appraisal. "Have you seen enough of me my lord?"

"This is no lord," the man behind her started. "This is –"

"Yes…yes, this is Robb Stark, King in the North, the young wolf, Lord of Winterfell and new Warden of the North," she paused then and looked at the man who had spoken with one eyebrow raised and continued rather sarcastically. "Gods those are a lot of titles, don't you tire of saying them all? At this rate, his titles will be longer than this thrice damned war."

Having said her piece, the Frey girl knelt back down so she could put her supplies back in her bag and move on. She had been here too bloody long already.

She glanced back at the young king who was watching her rather carefully and there was wariness in his eyes.

"What is your name?" he asked her.

She suppressed an eye roll. "My name is of no consequence your grace, I am a healer and that is all."

Not exactly true but at the same time she couldn't help but speak the words as they gave her some form of identity other than being Walder Frey's daughter.

"Not even your last name?" he asked and Melara snorted, eyes still on her bag. "You wish to know what side my family fights on."

"You seem to know me and thus must have known of my father. That seems to be an advantage –"

"That boy may very well lose his foot," Melara interrupted him again. "And it will have been on your orders… _your grace."_

She said the words somewhat mockingly and out of the corner of her eye she saw the man who seemed to be one of his commanders' step forward. However Robb waved him off and the retinue continued on after the young king had said a few short words to them.

Then he turned his attention back to her. "They killed my father."

She laughed grimly. "That boy did?"

"The family he fights for," Robb went on, his eyes narrowed slightly as if he didn't understand her line of logic.

In truth, she didn't understand _his._ "Do you think he's friends with King Joffrey? He's most likely a fisherman's son who grew up in Lannisport. He's most likely never held a spear before they shoved one in his hands a few months ago."

She didn't know for certain if that was his past, but his youth compelled her to think that he had never had formal training and must have been low born for the way he had spoken to her.

"I have no hatred for the lad," Robb said and this time Melara got to her feet, her pale jade eyes flashing with anger.

She didn't know what compelled her to do it but she reached for the hood of her cloak and yanked it down, long black curls tumbling down her back. Perhaps it was to allow him to see how angry she was.

Growing up in England had taught the former Pansy that war was sometimes inevitable, but that the weak were trodden upon in the process. Her friends had been among them, so had Ron's brother Fred and several of her other friends in Slytherin house.

Gods but she hated war.

The young king blinked at the sudden gesture and as his eyes took in her appearance, green eyes flashing with rage he blinked again.

"Keep telling yourself that your grace," Melara said rather tightly. She slung the bag over her shoulder and wrapped her cloak more firmly about her shoulder. "Perhaps in time you'll start to believe it."

She marched off then, but had only gone a few steps when he called out to her. "You'd have us surrender…end all this bloodshed, I understand. The country would be at peace…and life would be just under the righteous hand of good king Joffrey."

She stopped and turned to him then, feeling a little amused. "Are you going to kill King Joffrey?"

"If the gods give me strength," he said.

She looked him over and perhaps it was because her mind was over thirty years old but all she saw was a man barely out of boyhood who knew almost nothing when it came to war. He had won a few battles certainly but he was going to need far more than luck if he wished to get his family back.

But he would get not help or hindrance from her. All she wanted was her family safe. She was no brash Gryffindor who would run head long into a fight. Ron might have thought such a war just, honorable even. But where the justice for those who died along the way? Where was the justice for Fred and Daphne and Blaise and Lovegood and all of the others who had died to bring down a mad man just as this Robb Stark was now trying to do.

There was none.

"And then what?" she asked. It was a question that she had thought of many times. How did one go on when they had lost nearly everything? How did they return to the past when the future was ahead of them and so cold and foreign that you almost wished you had died in the battles so you didn't have to face it?

"I don't know," he said. "I'll go back to Winterfell. I have no desire to sit on the Iron Throne."

"And then who will?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said.

She laughed, a grim sound that made her inwardly want to grimace. "No you don't. You know nothing. You're fighting to over throw a king and yet you have no plan for what comes after?"

"First we have to win the war," he said as if that explained everything.

Melara gave him a rather cold smirk. "Then I'll be waiting to see how that works out for you your grace."

She took a step towards him and looked up into his face so they were almost chest to chest. "If you want change, you're going to have to get it yourself. You don't know who will rule after you kill Joffrey and that is your first problem. It will lead to your downfall. You're so bent on righteous retribution that you have idea what you will do if you get it. You want revenge? Fine. But be prepared to deal with the consequences if you should succeed. The realm must have a king and yet you have no idea who will sit upon the throne. If it is not you it will be someone else and that someone else may just be worse than Joffrey. But who am I to judge? You obviously know what you are doing."

Without another word, she turned and strode away from him, noting that this time he didn't follow her.

He did however call out after her. "You never told me your name."

She chuckled and then said the first thing that came to mind. "Talisa… my name is Talisa. And perhaps if we should meet again your grace under better circumstances perhaps I will tell you my last name."

"And what should those better circumstances be?" he asked.

"When you learn just what war does to those who fight it for you," she said. "We saved the boy but how many others will die because of what you and the Lannisters have done? But again, you know what you're doing… _your grace."_

And then she turned and strode off the battlefield, feeling more incensed than she had in a good long while.

Ω

 **So...Robb and Melara have met. Sorry for the long wait guys. I was experiencing some writer's block on this story and wanted to think about it some more. Something that Melara/Pansy is aware of is the casualties of war after she has fought in one herself. So it makes sense that she hates it and dislikes both Robb and the Lannisters for fighting in it. She knows that her father is going to have her marry Robb and at the beginning she is okay with this because to be honest she was a pureblood who was used to the idea of arranged marriages. But now that she's met her future husband though he doesn't know it, she has formed some opinions about him that are going to prove to be interesting. Don't forget to review and happy reading everyone!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Melara felt odd after she had apparated back to the Twins a few days later. Her conversation with Robb Stark still echoed in her mind as one of increasing importance. His lack of foresight about what he would do when and if he managed to take the throne from Joffrey and cast down the Lannisters at the same time was alarming to her.

As a Slytherin, she had always had a plan in the past…it had been the lifeblood in the house of serpents to know what you were going to do before you did it and several other ways to accomplish it if the first way failed.

Melara still remembered how she had felt as Pansy when her parents had informed her the first time that they would be changing sides in the war and that they had joined the Order of the Phoenix.

Oh the rage she had felt upon receiving the news. They were going against everything she had been taught as a pureblood on the basis of evolution and survival of the fittest.

Her parents still hadn't liked Muggles and Muggleborns but old blood and old ways didn't go away so easily. It was a hard won battle for Granger to win her over after all.

And now here she was in a world filled with Muggles who it seemed were as clueless about what to do with their own plans the moment they thought of them.

 _Robb Stark,_ she thought viciously as she stalked through the halls of the Twins, _is a foolish idiot without a clue. He intends to rescue his sisters and take revenge on Joffrey does he? That's all well and good, I would think that I understand the desire for vengeance better than most but you must always have a plan when you go out for it. Otherwise you will be digging two graves, one for the person whom you have gone out to kill and the other for yourself._

And this was the man that she would be marrying?

On a physical level he appealed to her, who wouldn't he appeal to after all? Robb Stark was a man that any woman would turn her head for and she suspected that many had.

But Melara didn't want a simpleton for a husband. She remembered simpering after Draco Malfoy when she had still been Pansy Parkinson and grimaced. _Fat lot that I knew. It's amazing how time and distance has a way of making you think about what's important._

Her feet finally took her outside of the Twins where she made her way into the forest where Will had been teaching her how to shoot a bow several months before he was called off to fight in this senseless war where there was more death than victory.

She hated that she felt so bitter about it, but for the moment didn't know how to change it.

Gods but she missed her brothers.

She missed Wyn's sarcastic jokes and Ben's calm nature. She missed Will's lessons on archery and healing and Olly's consistent joyful mood that he always employed in an effort to cheer her when he thought she was brooding.

Roslin had seemed to rally from her bed upon her return from her "visit to her good sister," but still had a pinched strained look about her face that said she was just as worried as she had been before but was attempting to put a brave look on her face.

 _At least she's trying,_ Melara thought to herself bleakly. _I imagine that it's been difficult for her. But Ros has got no fight in her. She's going to need it being father's daughter and all. I have a feeling that being a Frey has the ability to either make or break a person. There are those of us who rise above like most of my full siblings and then there are others like Walda or Stevron who turn into the physical personifications of a weasel and do whatever is necessary to get what they want. Again, I have no qualms about that. I had no problems using Unforgivables in the war because they got the job done and it was less Death Eaters to worry about. Sometimes that sort of pragmatism is necessary. But when that sort of pragmatism causes one to lose oneself in one's own ambitions…it is then when the trouble starts._

She sat down at the edge of the stone wall where she had sat with Will months earlier, her mind turning back to her future husband and her appalled reaction to when he had said he didn't know what he would do after Joffrey was cast down from the Iron Throne.

It seemed no one knew what to do about anything and Melara remembered sneaking into her father's solar a few days after she returned from Oxcross when he wasn't there and reading some of the ravens that had been sent to him. She had made a habit of doing it all the time because no one would tell her anything in this place and because she had done it before when she was at Hogwarts so that she might keep up on all of the gossip.

Melara smiled to herself when she remembered reading the letter that both Baratheon brothers had declared themselves king of the Seven Kingdoms and the realm at large and had amassed armies both in the Stormlands and on Dragonstone who were calling them king.

 _Brother has been pitted against brother and son will fight for sister, these are strange times we live in._

Dragonstone…she had never been there but she had heard tales about it. Apparently the place was all slate grey rock with few trees and as grim as the man it was given to after the war his brother had fought against the Targaryens.

Dragonstone also, though old and strong commanded the allegiance of only a few lesser lords whose islands were too thinly populated to provide any great number of troops which was to the detriment of Stannis Baratheon. What was a king with no one to fight for him after all?

The island had some navel strength which had aided the Targaryens in the days of old. The castle itself was a dark entity and had been built by the Valyrians using arcane arts, fire and sorcery. What was fascinating was that the Valyrians had been capable of liquefying stone with their magic. They had loved nothing more than twisting stone into strange, fanciful and ornate shapes and as such used their magic to shape the castle to look like multiple dragons. The citadel itself was made all of black stone or as some called the stones of hell. Apparently all over the castle could be found stone effigies of fantastical creatures far more strange and hair raising than dragons.

Melara had always wanted to see it.

But apparently sometime after Lord Jon Arryn had died, the man to whom the island had been gifted to had returned to it with all haste so as to leave dust in his wake. There were secrets there that were not being told and the silence only served to make Melara more and more curious.

In fact, if the truth was told she was contemplating returning to the capital in disguise to have a look around the city and see if she could find out what was going on. She had learned all she was going to from the northern portion of the war and was wondering what was happening on the southern end.

Though her family was fighting for the King in the North, she herself had declared for no side and was far more interested in learning what it was that the Lannisters were hiding. Robb Stark had no secrets, of that she was certain. The man was an open book and no more was to be learned from him.

The lions however…their secrets would be sure to be interesting.

Every family had secrets, hers none the least of which possessed them in spades. But Melara remembered reading in her father's letters that the reason the former Hand was dead had had to do with charges of treason and incest against the queen. Apparently for some reason Lord Eddard Stark had had reason to give voice to these charges.

While most of the realm seemed to think them false, the north certainly thought they held merit and were marching to war on the basis of their validity.

Melara herself wanted to find out whether or not this was in fact true.

She doubt she would be able to ascertain much from a simple trip to the capital but at the end of the day, she needed to do something with herself other than simply sit at the Twins waiting to hear word from her brothers and ignoring her father's own pitiful scheming and plotting.

She felt she had to do something and the time was now.

But instead of apparating out of the forest and into the capital right away, Melara returned to the Twins and her chambers where she locked her door, retrieved her cloak and the long knife her brother Ben had given her for her name day in secret a few years earlier.

 _"If there's anyone that I would trust to know what to do with it and not cut themselves Mel, it's you," he had said. "Just don't go out of your way to slit too many throats."_

She had chuckled and told him that she made no promises to which he had laughed.

At this point though bringing the knife was only a cautionary measure, the brunette didn't think she would actually need to use it.

Melara put her cloak on and pulled the hood over her head so that she would not be seen. Again, it wasn't necessary she had planned to disillusion herself the entire time but thought should the worst happen it would be best if no one saw her face.

She belted the knife to her waist and pulled the folds of the long green cloak over it so that it was concealed.

 _I won't be gone long,_ she thought to herself as she looked around her chambers making a few mental notes. _An hour or two but no more. I just want to walk among the people of that place for a while and see what they are saying. Sometimes the smallfolk have more of an idea of what is going on then the high lords do._

And then she grimaced, thinking of her own lord father. _And then there are the high lords that are completely clueless and vice less about what is happening._

She sighed and closed her eyes before spinning on her heel and apparating away from the Twins with a crack.

Unfortunately the place she had centered in her mind was the marketplace of King's Landing that she had been to a few times before she and her brothers had left the capital some months earlier.

She landed in a narrow alley that provided some shade from the near blinding sun and which allowed her to blend in right away.

The stink assaulted her nostrils right away and the Frey daughter had to do her best not to retch as the weight of it settled over her.

After a moment though she controlled herself and took a few deep breath through her mouth before drawing the hood of her cloak more fully over her head and muttering the words to the spell that would hide her.

She was glad that apparating didn't require a wand as it was something that did not tire her out when she had to employ its use.

Though she had had to learn how to practice magic wandlessly for her old job in her old life that practice was not without its detriments. It required extreme focus and careful concentration. It was also tiring as her magic didn't have a focus or a channel anymore and she needed to wield it with the force of her will. So Melara had had to essentially employ more muggle techniques when doing things because using too much magic would tire her out faster than using her wand.

It was annoying, but she was just glad that she was able to use some magic at all.

It would require more focus and training to ensure that she was able to cast spells without tiring herself out.

But it was a price she was willing to pay in order to get better and be able to defend herself. Using a sword would only get her so far and Melara had a feeling that she was going to need every advantage afforded to her in this new life.

She felt a slight draw on her strength from the use of the spell and took a few deep breaths to steady herself before she stepped out of the alley way and into the blinding sunlight.

Immediately the heat of hundreds of bodies struck her and she grimaced, remembering that the capital was much farther south than the Riverlands where the Twins were located and she should have dressed for the weather.

No matter, it was a small cost to what she wanted to know.

She glanced up and down the street as people hustled by her and made sure that she stayed on the edge of the street so that she was not jostled against and attention was drawn to her.

 _I need to get to the keep and discover some of what is going on,_ she thought to herself. _If I discover just how far the Lannisters are along in their war plans then perhaps I can have some idea of how long this thrice damned war is going to last and who it is that might win it, Starks or Lannisters. At this point I am not sure that I have a preference. As long as my brothers are safe, it does not matter._

Though she had a feeling that she might just care more in the coming months.

Upon seeing the towers of the Red Keep in the distance, Melara turned and hustled in that direction, dodging around shoppers' beggars and the random child who darted across her path, intent to get to the keep built by the Targaryens.

She had no qualms that it would take a clever technique to get in as she did not have the ability to phase through walls much as she wished she could.

 _Hopefully I will catch someone going in or out and be able to slip in with them. The doors cannot stay closed forever._

The keep began to near and Melara felt her heart begin to race in anticipation. She had no idea what she would find out when she walked those walls, but they were going to be far more hostile than the way it was when she had been there months earlier and she needed to be more careful than ever before.

As Melara walked, she happened to see more Lannister soldiers in the streets and the red and gold shields bearing the lion on it marched by her with precision moving towards the walls at other end of the cities.

 _It seems that war is being prepared for as well here,_ Melara thought to herself. _The whole air of the city is tense and it even isn't as loud as it was the last time I was here._

She glanced up and down the street and noted that many others were watching the passing soldiers with an air of nervousness and shifty eyes that indicated they were indeed apprehensive about what was coming.

 _I wonder how big of a threat they are considering Robb Stark and the Baratheons these days,_ Melara thought to herself. _No matter though, I will soon find out for myself._

She doubled her pace towards the keep and when she had neared the walls and was out from the sunlight and the stink of the streets and the bay beyond, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she spun on her heel to apparate her into the gardens where she had walked at least once.

That was the good thing about apparition. As long as she had been in one place at least once before, she would always be able to get there via her magic. Destination was the most important thing when apparating as she remembered from her lessons at school that no one could apparate to a place that they had never been before.

At the moment however, she hadn't wanted to apparate into the Red Keep straight from the Twins as seeing the air of the city and what was happening in the streets was almost as important.

The moment Melara apparated into the gardens however and replaced the spell of disillusionment around herself. She paused for a moment to catch her breath as there was a draw on her strength from the expulsion of effort before she opened her eyes and looked around.

The gardens were the same as they had been a few months earlier but with one glaring exception.

There was no one around.

The place was utterly silent and the only sounds that could be heard were those of the birds flitting from tree to tree and calling to one another.

 _Where the bloody hell is everyone?_ She wondered to herself.

Just then off in the distance, she could hear the sound of metal clashing against metal and muffled cheers and curses as if from a crowd.

 _A tourney?_ Melara thought in confusion. She remembered the sounds of a tourney well from the last time she had been in the capital and those sounds were unmistakably thus. _Why on earth would they be having a tourney now when the entire country is at war?_

She shrugged her shoulders and decided to head in that direction. _Whatever is happening I will find out in the direction of all of this noise._

It turned out that the newly crowned King Joffrey was holding a tourney to celebrate his own coronation. It was a much smaller one than the one she had observed with her brothers. It was amusing because that one had been to celebrate the appointment of a new Hand and this one was to celebrate the appointment of a new King but yet it was being held away from the people and in an enclosed area.

Melara didn't dare get too close to the grounds but simply narrowed her eyes at the high seat in speculation.

She saw the blonde boy king sitting there looking bored upon his throne with Sansa Stark sitting next to him looking as demure and cowed as the Frey girl had ever seen her.

The red head had appeared a delicate little thing a few months earlier at the tourney of the Hand but now she appeared even more of a shrinking violet with her head bowed and her hands twisted together in her lap. Her pallor was grey and there were dark circles under her eyes that were even more noticeable because of the bright sunny day. She appeared as if she had lost weight as well and her big blue eyes were still and watery as if she had been holding back tears for the gods knew how long.

Melara couldn't blame her. Her father had been killed in front of her in a public execution and she wondered where her younger sister Arya was. Surely she hadn't left her alone? Had she?

For a moment, Melara envisioned her younger sister Roslin who seemed to be as delicate as Sansa Stark at the mercy of Joffrey and she felt her blood boil within her so she had to clench and unclench her fists in an effort to calm herself so she could focus.

Judging from where Sansa was sitting, she was still the betrothed of the king and Melara grimaced in sympathy. She had never spoken to Joffrey when she was in King's Landing for the Hand's tourney but she had glimpsed his interactions with others from afar. He had been a proud arrogant, narcissistic boy from all the whispers she had heard and even his voice carried over the crowd as someone of extreme self-importance.

But she was pretty sure she was being generous.

From his own bored look watching the two knights below him fighting and the gleam of malic in his eyes, Melara had a feeling that the boy king was more interested than seeing blood than simple fighting.

His royal siblings, Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen were sitting below him on seats of their own and appeared more engaged in it than their brother and his betrothed.

Melara was just about to find a way inside of the keep, figuring she would discover more about the war there than she would outside here watching knights bash themselves against each other for the enjoyment of some sadistic brat when something strange happened.

A distant horn blew and she along with everyone else turned to see an odd procssion approaching from behind the tourney ground.

It included a small man on a horse followed by a series of further odd men in an assortment of fabrics and metal plates following him rode into the area and took everyone's attention off the tourney.

"Uncle!" she heard Prince Tommen and Myrcella yell before they got down off their seats and hurried towards Tyrion Lannister who had just gotten down from his horse.

He embraced the both of them and then said something that Melara didn't catch, but she didn't dare go any closer.

After he had greeted both the prince and princess, the dwarf turned to the new king and Sansa Stark and said a few words that Melara also didn't catch. But from the look of renewed sadness on the red head's face and the disgust on Joffrey's, it had been something that had hit close to home.

Soon after, the Imp turned to go inside of the keep, leaving his odd assortment of protectors behind and Melara made to follow him. She was astonished at how he had somehow managed to escape from the Vale and by the looks of the man following him, he hadn't done it alone. He was a sellsword from the looks of him and from the mocking smirking way he looked around the keep he must have thought he had his a jackpot of coin by serving the man he was.

 _Its said that Lysa Arryn is as unstable as they come,_ Melara thought to herself as she followed the two men. _And that she bears a hatred of Lannisters as does her sister. I wonder how it was that this littlest Lannister was allowed to go free. It can't have been on his own intelligence, I'd eat my own cloak if I found out that was true. But perhaps the sellsword had something to do with it. Gods but I wish I could have been there._

The sounds of the tourney soon faded behind them but Melara kept a safe distance from the two men as she wanted to keep herself as safe as possible. She had already cast the _muffliato_ charm on her to mask any sounds that she would make but she was a Slytherin and being paranoid was how many of her fellow snakes had stayed alive during the war.

She blinked back memories and stepped into the cool quiet of the keep, keeping about ten paces behind Tyrion Lannister and his sellsword companion.

Melara doubted they were even aware that they were being followed.

After about ten minutes of walking, she was unsurprised to find that their steps had taken them to that of the small council chambers where it appeared that those members were in full swing of a meeting.

Melara quickened her pace towards the two men as Tyrion Lannister demanded to be let in and his sellsword demonstrated just why he should.

Finally the door was opened and the Frey knew she had only a few seconds. She dashed forward and slipped in between the door and the wall just as it was closing, following the littlest lion into the room.

It had been a close call and judging from the amount of people that were there, Lord Varys, Grand Maester Pycelle for some, they had been in the middle of discussing something of grave importance.

Melara stood quietly in the corner, being able to see all she needed to from there and watched with a smirk as Tyrion Lannister strode up to the table.

From the look his sister Cersei Lannister was giving him it appeared as if she regarded him no better than something she had scraped off of her shoes.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped and suddenly the sunny day and the light that had come in from the windows of the council chamber seemed to grow colder.

 _Gods what a shrew,_ Melara thought to herself. _If any one of my brothers had returned from being abducted I would have been embracing them right about now. I can see Lannister family relations are far different from my own._

Tyrion Lannister didn't seem fazed by his sister's frosty tone however for all he did was smile.

"It's been a remarkable journey," he said as he walked to the other end of the table and sat down in the spot where the Hand would normally sit. "I pissed off the edge of the wall…I slept in a sky cell….I fought with the hill tribes…so many adventures."

He said all this as he filled a glass of wine for himself and swirled it around before taking a sip from the flagon. "So much to be thankful for."

 _He has gotten around._

" _What_ are you doing here?" the queen demanded again. "This is the small council."

"Yes," Tyrion Lannister responded as if that there entirely obvious and he had no idea why she needed to say it. "I believe the Hand of the King is welcome at all small council meetings."

At this, Melara's eyes widened from where she was standing in the corner and she smiled softly to herself. _Interesting…the lack of an acting new Hand here plus the fact that all seems to not be going well for the Lannisters with regards to this war must have compelled Tywin Lannister to send his son here. After all this war is the fault of his idiot grandson._

She remembered reading a letter her father had received a few weeks ago that Jaime Lannister had been captured in a battle in the Whispering Wood and was now a prisoner of the Starks.

A valuable hostage to be sure.

"Father is the Hand of the King," Cersei replied as if she were trying to explain a difficult concept to a child.

"Yes but, in his absense," Tyrion Lannister began and pulled out a small roll of parchment from the pocket of his jerkin and passed it to Lord Varys all without breaking eye contact with his sister.

The bald eunuch took the parchment and eyed the dwarf before breaking the seal and unrolling it. There was a moment of silence as he scanned the words and then looked up at the queen who was looking increasingly impatient. "Your father has named Lord Tyrion as Hand of the Queen in his stead while he fights the – "

But it appeared the blonde queen had had enough at this point as she shot to her feet, interrupting the message. "Out! All of you out!"

Immediately those gathered around the table got to their feet in a hurry and bowed to her and Tyrion before scurrying off, grand maester Pycelle the quickest of the lot which was amusing for one his age.

Melara watched, completely still as the room cleared out until all who were left sitting around the long stone table which held only a flagon of wine and the parchment where the queen and her younger brother.

There was a moment of silence before said queen got to her feet and walked around the table towards said brother. "I would like to know how you tricked father into this."

Tyrion Lannister snorted. "If I were capable of tricking father of anything, I would be emperor of the world by now. You brought this on yourself."

The queen sank into a chair beside him and glared at him before turning her attention away towards the window and the bright light coming through it. "I've done nothing."

"Quite right," the dwarf said, "you did nothing and your son called for Ned Stark's head. Now the entire north has risen up against us."

"I tried to stop it," Cersei protested.

"Did you? You failed. That bit of theatre will haunt our family for a generation."

Melara silently folded her hands in front of her as she watched the exchange in interest. Lannister family dynamics were quite different than those of the Freys. Her father was an idiot but at least an ambitious idiot. He got his joy from bossing around his other idiot children who listened and did what he said with mixed and limited success.

"Robb Stark is a child," the queen attempted but it seemed the Imp had an answer for that as well.

"Who has won every battle he's fought," he continued. "Do you understand what losing the war – "

"What do you know about warfare?" Cersei interrupted.

"Nothing," Tyrion replied. "But I know people. And I know that our enemies hate each other almost as much as they hate us."

There was a long silence in which Cersei Lannister said nothing and Melara peered at her closely. She seemed to be trying to come up with an answer and failing at all of her responses as they either had something wrong with them or they were untrue in full.

Finally she settled on the most obvious one. "Joffrey is king."

"Joffrey is king," her brother repeated.

"You are here to advise him."

"I am only here to advise him," Tyrion went on. "And if the king listens to what I say, the king…might just get his uncle Jaime back."

The queen blinked and Melara could tell the dwarf had her attention now. She could see the subtle light in those green eyes so like the spell of the killing curse brighten at the mention of her twin.

 _Interesting…_ she thought again. _Are the rumors perhaps true?_

"How?" she asked.

"You love your children," the new Hand replied. "It's your one redeeming quality, well…that and your cheek bones."

Melara stifled a snort and the Imp continued. "Stark love their children as well. And we have two of them."

"One," Cersei corrected and Melara blinked. _One?_

From the look on Tyrion's face he couldn't believe it either. "One?"

"Arya, little animal, she disappeared," the queen muttered as if she were still coming to terms with it herself.

 _Interesting,_ Melara thought to herself feeling oddly pleased. _It seems that the girl is more resourceful than I thought. I wonder how she got away and where she is now. That's going to come back to bite the Lannisters, of that I am certain._

"Disappeared?" the Imp asked. "What in a puff of smoke?

The sarcasm dripped like acid from his tone and regarded his sister as the biggest idiot in the world. "We had three Starks to trade…you chopped one's head off and let another escape. Father would be furious."

Cersei looked as if she wanted to cringe but it seemed her brother wasn't done twisting the knife in. "It must be hard for you. To be the disappointing child."

He continued to stare at her as he sipped from his wine glass and Melara smirked slightly. So far no plans of war had been discussed and she had a feeling that none were this day.

Which meant she would need to return or else visit Tywin Lannister's camp in order to get more information.

Gods she sometimes loved the fact that she was a witch. Especially in a world where being what she was, was a rarity.

 _I don't think I am going to be able to find out much more about what's going to happen here,_ Melara thought to herself as she watched the two Lannisters sitting quietly at the table drinking from their own respective wine glasses.

She wondered if she should go back to the gardens to see if there was any more she could glean before she suddenly felt tired.

While she was good at sneaking around and learning politics through trickery and deception, there came a time when enough was enough and she was getting to that point.

 _Tywin Lannister's camp will be the one I need to visit in order to get more information about what is going on. I'll come back here…but not more a while yet._

With that, the Frey spun on her heel and apparated back to her chamber in the Twins.

The two lions continued to sit in silence, drinking their wine and completely unaware that many of their secrets had just been spied upon.

Ω

 **No Robb in this one, but this story is not going to be all about his relationship with Melara/Pansy. She's going to have her own role of spy to play and you'll find in the coming chapters that she is quite good at it. If she's going to need to marry the king in the north than he is going to need someone who isn't afraid to get their hands dirty. In the coming chapters we will see Melara in some interesting places getting some interesting information. I know its been a while but I was experiencing some writer's block with this story. However I am back now as finals concluded a month ago so updates should hopefully become more frequent. Don't forget to review and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Unlike she had been when she had left the Twins, Melara was feeling very satisfied with herself.

She hadn't thought that the small council would be in session this early but then her knowledge of politics in this world was still somewhat lacking. She wouldn't be surprised if they met every single day or perhaps once every few hours in order to talk about the war effort and Lannister troops.

There was one thing the eldest daughter of Bethany Rosby was able to make a note of when she had been in the capital and it was that Cersei Lannister was one foolish woman.

Who allowed their son to execute a Lord Paramount when there was a perfectly reasonable explanation to avoid war?

Ned Stark could have taken the Black if his charges of bastardy and incest against the queen and the family were false and war might have been avoided.

But Joffrey Baratheon had seen it fit to take his head and stick it on a spike for all of King's Landing to see, causing his son and heir Robb Stark to call the banners and march south.

Robb Stark…

He was another anomaly she hadn't thought of.

Of all things she had wanted never to do in her old life, it was marry a Muggle. She had been raised to think of them as repulsive creatures only fit to serve. But in this new life as Melara Frey, the girl once known as Pansy realized that the world was much bigger here than it was in England.

As much as she disliked it, she was the minority here. Magic rested on her and if she wanted it to die out completely, then she would refuse her father and this marriage to the King in the North and simply leave.

But that was something Melara wasn't sure she wanted to do either. She was never opposed to the idea of marriage, even an arranged marriage as it was what she had been raised to believe would happen to her.

No, what she opposed was marrying a man who was a simpleton when it came to matters of the real world.

From the success her father had been telling her about, Melara knew that he was no slouch on the battlefield and had successfully beaten back the Lannisters several times so his forms of military strategy were not something to be concerned about.

What did concern her however was his sense of honor and the way that he seemed completely unconcerned about what he would do when and if he killed Joffrey and stuck his head on a spike right next to his father's.

 _How does he have no plans about what he intends to do?_ She thought to herself as she paced about her chambers like a caged animal. _Are Muggles really that stupid that they do not consider the future of their lives?_

Of course that wasn't entirely true. She had never met Granger's parents but the bushy haired witch was as smart as a whip and if they had produced someone as brilliant as that, than logic dictated that not all Muggles could be fools just like not all wizards could be possessed of brilliant intellect.

She just didn't think that the person she would be marrying would be so lacking in intellect in one area and fair to bursting with it in another.

 _The men of the north and their damnable honor,_ she thought to herself with a silent growl. _It clouds their judgement on what is really important…winning this war. If Robb Stark wishes to avenge his father and rescue his sisters then he must be willing to realize that you cannot win a war with righteous intent alone. Sometimes being a butcher is_ _necessary, sometimes hardening your heart is necessary. If he does not sit on the Iron Throne or choose someone as a suitable replacement then what was the point of this thrice damned war? He may yet have to fight against someone trying to invade his new kingdom of the north and the Trident when that person does not believe that he is in fact king!_

Thinking these thoughts made her angrier and angrier until she had to forcibly sit down on her bed and calm herself.

 _Its about time I check in with Wyn and Ben and Will and Olly again,_ she thought to herself, taking her thoughts for a moment off of her betrothed. _It's been a long time since I have checked in with them and now that the Tully Stronghold has been liberated, morale must be high in the Stark camp._

She had never been to the Tully stronghold herself, but she had seen portraits of it in old books in her father's library. The library at the Twins was not as expansive as it no doubt was in any other hold of a lord paramount, but it suited Melara's needs well enough. She knew what to expect in the way of history when she was reborn here.

She decided she would go to the library to do some reading to clear her mind as it always calmed her in the past.

Along the long stone hallways however, Melara came face to face with another unexpected problem.

Her father.

To her surprise, he was in his solar as he was not usually this time of day and he appeared somewhat gleeful in a way that she had not seen since he had told her that she was betrothed to Robb Stark.

That could not be a good sign.

The moment he saw her, his smile turned into one that was all teeth and he called out to her.

"Melara my dear! Just the daughter I was looking for. Would you come in here a moment?"

He was uncommonly chipper today and her wariness increased as she stepped into the solar and shut the door behind her.

"What is it father?" she asked, calmly talking a seat across from him.

Walder Frey was silent for a moment, simply watching her with his sharp beady eyes as if she were some prize that was soon to be auctioned off.

Which in this case was the truth.

"I have just received the most wonderful news from your brother Perwyn my dear," he said gleefully and Melara's frown deepened.

"And that is?"

"Now that young Robb Stark has been declared King in the North and of the Trident by his bannermen and the River lords alike and you are to be his queen, it will elevate the position of our family beyond what it was before. They also hold the Kingslayer captive and I am told that Tywin Lannister will do anything and everything to get him back."

"Anything?" Melara asked raising an eyebrow. "Including end this thrice damned war?"

"Perhaps," her father said musingly. "But at the moment that is not our concern."

"How is not our concern?" Melara demanded. "House Frey is helping to field this war and all of my brothers, your sons I might add have gone off to fight it. We are as invested in this war as much as the Starks and their bannermen are. Suppose the war drags on for another gods know how many damn years?"

"That will not happen," her father said, surprising her with his surety.

"Do you know something father?" she asked.

"Only speculation my dear. Your brother has written that they now march on the Crag and should they take that they will begin to plunder the rest of the Westerlands, hopefully making it to Casterly Rock and taking the ancestral seat of House Lannister."

Melara frowned. "That is no mean feat. How do they plan to accomplish that?"

"Plans still to come my dear," the lord of the Twins replied. "But your wedding to Robb Stark will be soon…very soon. And then finally a Frey queen will sit upon a throne."

 _I won't be a Frey anymore father,_ she thought grimly as she left the weasel lord's solar. _I'll be a Stark before long_.

Ω

After she had found a picture of the Crag in one of the books in her father's library, Melara retrieved her satchel of potions and her dark green hood and cloak before apparating out of the Twins.

The castle itself was situated on a wide grassy hilly green area surrounded by miles and miles of trees. Forests went as far as the eye could see and the sky above was grey and clouded, promising rain.

She was standing in a glade and through the trees she could see the Crag, the ancestral seat of House Westerling sitting on a hill. The ancient castle reminded the witch of Hogwarts slightly, omitting the lake that would have been at its front.

It was quite pretty and for a moment she wondered what it would be like if the place was absolutely silent.

After a moment however, the silence was broken by the whinnying of horses and the call of men yelling to one another.

It seemed as if the battle was over as there were no shouts and no screams of horses, for which Melara was glad.

She drew her hood up over her head more firmly and whispered the words to disguise herself, wincing slightly as she felt a draw on her strength from the magic use. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before stepping out from the trees onto the battle field beyond.

Even though they were a fair ways off from the Crag itself, Melara could still see the castle rising above everything else on the landscape, even the bodies that littered the field and stained the grass red with blood.

She winced slightly and began to step in between the bodies, looking for any sign of her brothers. Melara took care not the look at the ground as she fiercely had a feeling that none of her brothers would be here.

The ground in the clearing was sticky in some places and Melara fought not to wince as she stepped as gingerly as she could over it.

She had seen worse things than blood in her previous life and now it was time for her to put on the same expression she had previously used.

Granger had called it her resting bitch face…whatever that meant. It was something she had heard in the Muggle world from her American cousins and Melara had wanted to cringe at the thought of her former self going to America to hear such an expression.

She had been to America once with Granger for an assignment and still wanted to cringe at dirty it was, especially New York City.

After returning to their hotel she had wanted to peel her skin off and then take a shower and wash what was underneath.

Here it wasn't dirty, it was just…wet.

Melara blew out a breath before pulling her head more tightly over her face and quickening her pace.

 _Wyn, Ben Will and Olly have to be around here somewhere. I don't see any soldiers anywhere though. It appears that the only bodies in this clearing belong to Lannister soldiers so it must have been a victory for the Stark army…I hope._

Off in the distance behind the clearing, Melara could hear the sounds of whinnying horses and men shouting orders as well as distant groans and she took a deep breath. _The aftermath of the battle appears to be over there._

She slipped into the trees and saw that sure enough through the glade farther off it appeared that the young wolf had encamped his army at the base of the Crag and she could see the banners of House Westerling flying from the turrets.

She couldn't see the remains of the Lannister army anywhere so they must have been defeated.

All of a sudden a slight groan drew her attention away from the encampment and her head whipped around in shock when she saw what had caused it.

About fifteen feet away sitting at the edge of a small dried of creek bed with his back against a rock was her brother Perwyn. He was trying his best to bandage his leg which

Melara saw to her dismay had been slashed and was bleeding.

She didn't see anyone else around and immediately released the disillusionment charm on herself before dashing forward.

"Wyn!" she hissed as she dropped to her knees beside him. "Thank goodness I found you! Are you alright?"

He looked up at her as if he had seen a ghost. "Melara?! What the bloody hell are you doing here? How did you know that Robb Starks army would be at the Crag?"

"Our father likes to run his mouth brother," Melara muttered as she set her bag down and began to dig around in it for bandages. "As it turns out he doesn't care who he tells as long as the war goes well for the Starks and poorly for our enemies. When he finally crawled back into the hole he came out of, I came here to find you."

"Are you alone?" Wyn demanded, wincing as he tried to adjust his position.

"No I brought the entirety of the household guard," Melara said rolling her eyes. "Of course I came alone! You and Ben and Will and Olly are the only ones who know about my magic! Why would I bring someone else here and have to reveal it to them in the process!?"

Wyn winced as he attempted to sit up. "I find your barbs would be less painful if there wasn't this agony in my leg."

Melara shook her head. "Dare I ask how you managed to wound yourself?"

Wyn chuckled but then winced again, "I don't even know. Somehow throughout the battle I found myself in this glade and the moment I had killed the last Lannister soldier in front of me I felt this sharp pain in my leg and almost toppled over. I managed to make it over to the dried out creek bed and this is where you found me."

"It must have happened when you were fighting," Melara muttered pulling a vial out of her bag.

"What I want to know," her brother went on between winces, "is why you are here in the first place? I thought we had an agreement that you wouldn't use magic in a public setting as the last thing we need is for you to draw attention to yourself."

"There was a clause that excused me from that when my family is in danger," Melara dead panned as she carefully pulled back the fabric covering her brothers leg that was now sticky with blood and almost congealed to his skin.

Wyn muttered some rather colorful oaths under his breath but finally sagged in relief when his sister succeeded in pulling the cloth away and seeing the wound underneath.

She gave a sigh of relief and he looked up at her. "How bad is it?"

"It's long but its not deep," she said. "You should be fine. Thankfully the wound is still fresh and all it would require is being flushed out along with some bandages. You should be fine within a week or so."

"Wonderful," her brother muttered sarcastically. "I wonder if his grace the king can postpone his next battle to that long?"

Melara reached out and carefully helped him sit up for which he muttered a thank you under his breath.

"I've answered your questions," he muttered to his sister. "Now you need to answer mine. What are you doing here?"

Melara raised an eyebrow at him. "If you think I am going to merely sit at the Twins wondering how the battles and the campaigns are going while I can do nothing but embroider then you really don't know me at all Wyn."

"We wanted you to stay out of it," he hissed back at her. "And you never embroider."

"Yes, well it turns out that that is not possible. I am certain you are aware of what father was in negotiations with Catelyn Stark about?"

"Not actually, I do not," Wyn replied. "He informed Stevron but that is all and our half-brother has been very secretive with the information."

Melara frowned. "Interesting."

"Why is it interesting?"

"Because I was informed not long ago by father that the only reason the Freys agreed to support the Starks is that a marriage contract has been arranged. I am to marry Robb Stark in exchange for the continued aid from House Frey."

Wyn did an excellent imitation of a fish for a long minute before he shut his mouth with a snap and found his voice again. "Is that so? I wonder why Stevron saw it fit to keep that a secret?"

"I think we all know that the one redeeming quality about Stevron is that he knows how to not run his mouth like father does," Melara quipped.

She pulled a wineskin she had filled with water from her bag and opened it before pouring it slowly over the wound in Wyn's leg to wash the blood away.

Her brother winced and uttered several fascinating curses under his breath before gritting his teeth and shutting his lips.

Melara then took a fresh bandage and gently wiped the mixture of water and blood away before wrapped another thrice around his leg and securing it with a second bandage.

"I have another question," Wyn said as he watched her.

"And that is?"

"Are you here just to make sure that we remain safe? Or are you here for another reason?"

"And what would that reason be brother?"

Wyn looked oddly smug. "I know you Mel, you don't like not knowing things and you are insanely curious. If there is ever a secret in the Twins you are the first to know about it and you never fail to use the information to your benefit."

"You paint a rather disturbing picture of me Wyn."

"But no less accurate," her brother replied. "Now tell me the truth. What you said cannot be all of it. I refuse to believe it."

"And why would you refuse to believe it?"

"Because as much as you refuse to believe that you are anything like father, there are some things that you share with him. One of them is your ability to talk doubly. You may say one thing but mean something else and when you want two things, only one of them shines through most of the time."

"I'm trying to decide whether or not I should slap you for comparing me to father," Melara said and Wyn snorted slightly. "You can deny it all you wish but you had to have inherited something from Walder Frey, why not his scheming?"

"Because I resent having anything belonging to the man who I have no doubt was responsible for the death of mother," Melara snapped back. "Far too many of his wives have died to have it labeled a coincidence."

"I know," Wyn replied with a deep sigh. "But would it be somewhat comforting to know that you do it better than he ever could?"

Melara snorted delicately. "Perhaps."

"Good, now tell me the other reason that you are here."

Melara sighed. "In the beginning it really was to check on you and Ben and Will and Olly. I came after Oxcross a few weeks ago to check on you and leave some of the remedies I had made in your tents."

"That was why I suddenly had a restocked supply of your moonstone mixture."

"Exactly."

"Go on."

"While I was there, I happened to look around and see a great deal of men still alive, both Stark and Lannister forces lying wounded on the ground. Deciding that I might be able to do some good, I began to tend to the foot of a wounded Lannister soldier."

"Only you would do something like that."

"Hush now, do you want to know my reasons or not."

"Go on."

"While I was there, Robb Stark and his entourage happened to walk by and see what I was doing."

"Please don't tell me you spoke to him," Wyn implored and Melara raised an eyebrow. "I did not. He spoke to me. We got in a bit of an argument actually."

"Gods," Wyn muttered before smacking a hand against his forehead. "Your tongue is going to be the death of us Mel."

"You don't even know what I said!" his sister protested.

"No, but I can guess," Wyn replied. "You were against this war from the start. You didn't say it but I could see it in your eyes and I can see it now. You don't want this war any more than we do and there is not a doubt in my mind that you told him that."

"Who in their right mind wants a war?" Melara demanded. "Except the sadists like the new king perhaps?"

Wyn's eyes narrowed. "What do you know of King Joffrey?"

Melara lowered her tone. "Only that I used my magic to travel to the capital not long ago and see for myself what the new king is like and that he barely warrants the title. I was more interested in Lannister councils however and managed to steal into the small council chamber whilst invisible to hear what was being said."

"And what did you hear?" Perwyn hissed in question as he struggled to sit up.

"I learned that the lions have only one Stark with which to bargain with," Melara said and Perwyn's eyes went wide. "What?!"

Melara smirked. "It seemed that when the Stark entourage was massacred and Ned Stark and his children taken prisoner, Arya Stark escaped in the confusion and disappeared. Sansa Stark is the only hostage that Cersei and Joffrey have to bargain with."

Perwyn muttered several curses under his breath. "This complicates matters. I am deep in Robb Stark's councils and I cannot tell him this without him demanding to know where I got the information. I cannot tell him of your magic."

"Perhaps you won't have to," Melara said as she looked over her brother's wound.

"What do you mean?"

The brunette had just opened her mouth to reply when there was the sound of soft footfalls on the grass through the forest.

The both of them looked up in time to see a man she had never seen before approaching them. He had a very pale face, almost as pale as the late Tom Riddle's Melara thought and his eyes were a very pale color. He looked somewhat familiar and she wondered if she had seen him at Oxcross before.

Had he been in the company of Robb Stark?  
When she noticed her brother's somewhat pale pallor, Melara wondered if she had hit upon the truth before he spoke in a hurried whisper.

"Lord Bolton. Say nothing Mel and pretend as if you don't know me."

She had just enough time to blink and process his request before the pale man with the even paler eyes spoke to her brother.

"Lord Perwyn, we had wondered where you were when we didn't see you after the battle. His grace the king would like to speak to you if you are able."

"Of course Lord Bolton," Wyn replied, grimacing as he attempted to get to his feet. Melara immediately wrapped her hands around his arm and helped him up when she felt the other man's eyes on her.

"Are you a healer?" he asked, his eyes taking in her plain state of dress, simple cloak and the bag at her feet as well as the way Wyn's leg was bandaged.

She didn't like the way his small pale eyes took her in but she had a cover to maintain so she simply nodded and curtsied. "Yes my lord."

"Then you may come as well," he said in that whispery voice that gave her the shivers. "His grace the king has been wounded in the battle from an arrow and is in need of a healer."

Wyn who was leaning heavily on his sister's shoulder stiffened slightly but Melara's only reaction was to tighten her lips slightly. Wyn's face was even paler and she could tell from the way his arm tightened about her shoulders and his fingers dug into her arm that he thought this was a bad idea.

But there was no going back now.

"Very well then," she said. "Can someone please assist Lord Perwyn back to the camp? His wound is still fresh making it somewhat difficult to walk."

Lord Bolton nodded and a man came forward to assist her brother allowing her to step away.

Wyn turned as they were going and looked over his shoulder at her, the glare he was exhibiting clearly meant to say that their conversation about her presence there was far from over.

Once they were alone, the Leech Lord gestured to the path. "Shall we?"

Ω

Being inside a war camp was strange Melara decided.

She had been on the outskirts of the camp a few weeks earlier and it had seemed busy then, but it was nothing compared to how it was now.

Horses trotted through the camp on leads pulled by men in various stages of armament and the sound of metal clashing against metal could be heard as mock drills took place.

The entire camps had taken place in the shadow of the Crag which loomed over them like some ancient monster looking down on its prey. She saw men walking along the sides of the path she and Lord Bolton were treading and the grey and white banners of the Stark direwolf were everywhere.

The Leech Lord appeared to be leading her to a tent in the center of the camp which was done in rich grey colors with a white banner flying from the turret at the top of it.

Several men in Stark leathers and colors were standing guard outside of it and Melara knew right away that she was about to enter the den of the wolf, figuratively and literally.

The guards were not the only ones standing outside the tent however and Melara was surprised to see another young woman no older than she was wearing a simple blue dress and cloak twisting her hands together nervously and looking at the tent. It was obvious that she was wondering how best to go in or if she even could but the guards seemed as implacable about her entering as the Crag itself

The moment they neared the tent, the guards stood to attention and stepped into her path. "Who comes?"

For a moment it appeared as if Lord Bolton wanted to laugh but such an expression as mirth would have appeared strange on his face.

"Lord Roose Bolton," he replied. "I have found a healer for the king to tend to his wounds."

He then turned to the young woman who was giving him a frightened look and barely paying attention to Melara. "Lady Westerling, your services are not needed."

The girl turned and fled then and Roose turned to Melara who was looking at the tent with one eyebrow raised.

He jerked his head towards it indicating that she should enter but said nothing more and Melars shrugged her shoulders slightly before striding up the path towards the tent.

She could feel the eyes of the guards on her as she moved past them and threw the flap of the tent open, allowing the pale grey light to shine in.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light and she had to blink a little but the moment that she did, the interior of the tent met her eyes.

It was large and there were furs all along the floor with a table that had maps scattered across it as well as a glass container of wine.

 _How anyone manages to carry wine with them on a war campaign will forever be a mystery to me._

Across the room was a bed in which a young man was lying. He was stripped to the waist and it appeared that a wound in his side had been attempted to wrap to stave off blood flow but whoever it was had done a poor job.

She recognized Robb Stark right away.

"About bloody time," said another voice and Melara turned to see another young man sitting in the chair next to the bed. "Does the king need to be on his deathbed before a maester from the castle deigns to come down from his ivory tower and help us?"

He had curly brown hair and brown eyes and Melara could see from the cloak he was wearing, the deep green colors and golden kraken embroidered on it that he was a Greyjoy.

 _What on earth is a squidling doing this far from the sea?_

"Theon enough," said the weary voice of Robb Stark from the bed. "House Westerling is a sworn banner of the Lannisters, any aid they might give us will not be without its share of grudges for taking their ancestral keep."

Melara raised an eyebrow before pulling down the hood of her cloak so that her long black curls tumbled down her back. "Lucky for you then your grace that I am not a Westerling."

Robb Stark blinked and turned his head to look at her, obviously recognizing the sound of her voice.

The moment his deep blue eyes met her jade green ones he blinked again and attempted to sit up. "Lady Talisa…I had thought not to see you again after Oxcross."

It was on the tip of Melara's tongue to respond with a particular Pansy like barb, something along the lines of: _I'm like a bad knut…I always turn up._

But that would have sounded utterly ridiculous and given the fact that there was an entirely different form of currency in this world no one would have known what she was talking about.

"I simply follow the trail of wounded men your grace," she said. "Given the fact that the realm has descended into civil war, it is not hard to find them."

"Yes I believe I am well acquainted with your feelings on the subject of war quite well," Stark replied and Melara bristled slightly.

 _Is it just me or has he become even more arrogant since the last time that we met?  
_

"Indeed," she said. "You do."

"Is this the woman you told me about Robb?" the Greyjoy boy asked. "The one with the tongue as sharp as a sword?"

"Aye, it is," Robb Stark replied. He had not broken eye contact with her from the moment she had first spoken but Melara had no problem meeting the intensity of his gaze.

 _Granger would say that I am using my resting bitch face again. I might be tempted to agree with her if she had come up with a better name for it than that god awful phrase._

She also knew that she was in the presence of Muggles and if push came to shove she could get herself out of here with minimal effort and there was nothing they could do to stop her.

"I understand you've been wounded your grace," she said returning to the purpose for which she had actually been called.

"Aye," the young king said. "An unfortunate incident that. I didn't notice it until the battle had concluded but an arrow somehow found its way past my armaments."

He made to sit up but Melara stepped forward. "Don't move, any sudden movements might disturb the bandages and you could lose more blood."

Robb Stark sighed and laid back down on the pillows before turning to his friend. "Theon, could you give us a moment?"

The Greyjoy boy looked put out at first but then he gave the king a brief nod before getting to his feet and striding out of the tent. He didn't leave before giving her a careful once over which turned into a somewhat leering gaze as it raked her form.

Melara let out a sigh as soon as he had left and strode forward beside the bed so that she kneel down and address the wound.

She could feel the young wolf's eyes on her. "You can sit down you know? It might be easier for you."

The brunette flickered her jade eyes up to meet his blue ones before spying a chair across the tent and giving a sharp nod. "Very well."

She dragged the chair over and seated herself in it before leaning over the wound again. "In order to assess the damage I am going to have to pull back these layers of cloth. Whoever dressed this wound did a piss poor job."

"That would be me," the king dead panned and Melara fought to keep herself from flinching. This would be one of those incidents where her tongue got her into trouble, but she decided to just go with it. "Who taught you how to bind wounds?"

A short bark of laughter came from the bed before the young wolf flinched and clamped his jaws shut against an obvious bout of pain. "The maester of Winterfell when I was but a boy. Sadly it seems I lack the ability that he did when in battle."

Melara snorted lightly and continued to peel back the layers of cloth until the wound was revealed.

She made no sound as it came into view as she could feel the king's eyes on her face, watching for any sign of worry or dismay.

Thankfully she prided herself on having an excellent poker face and the wound he bore was more superficial than serious. The arrow head appeared to have only pierced the top few layers of skin. It was the fact that it had been pulled out before being properly set and the blood loss that was concerning.

"How bad is it?" Stark asked.

"You'll live your grace," Melara deadpanned. She reached down into the bag at her feet and pulled out one of the vials.

She was glad to have brought some with her as she hadn't replenished her supply from Oxcross and would soon need to go in search of more moonstones near the Twins to continue making her potions.

It was one of the few things that calmed her in this life.

Taking out the wine skin, she carefully flushed the area around the wound with water to remove any impurities that might have come as a result of the poorly applied bandage before drying it with another clean bandage she had in her bag.

Stark did not flinch the entire time even though the water was cold and the wound was no doubt warm.

When she had finished cleaning the wound, Melara poured some of the moonstone mixture from the vial onto her hand and rubbed it back and forth between her palms for a few minutes.

"What is that?" Stark asked.

"A natural remedy derived from moonstones," she explained calmly. "Moonstones contain natural properties used in healing potions to settle upset stomachs, and strengthen the internal organs as well as promote the swiftness of healing wounds."

The young king raised an eyebrow. "You certainly know a lot about it."

Melara raised an eyebrow at him. "I am a healer your grace. I think you would have been concerned if I didn't know a lot about it."

"Are you always this serious?" he asked her.

"Is there something to be joyful about when dressing a wound?" she asked him and this time it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "I suppose not."

"Hold still," she said before he could say anything else and then leaned forward to gently apply the paste to his side where the arrow had pierced.

He sucked in a sharp breath as the mixture made contact with his skin and the wound but other than that, he didn't move which was somewhat impressive.

At the smell of the ointment, Melara felt her nostril hairs shrivel somewhat. The smell of the moonstone cream was something she had never liked and it often made her eyes burn and sting when she was brewing it.

She glanced up and gave a slightly smile to see the handsome young king wrinkling his nose somewhat at the scent. "It does seem most…medicinal."

Melara gave a dry chuckle causing him to look at her in surprise. "You should try making it and then see how much your eyes run."

"Is it supposed to burn this much?" he asked, the look on his face one of extreme discomfort.

"That's how you know it's working," Melara quipped. "Give it a moment."

They both sat in silence for a long while before the king turned to her.

"Why did you decide to become a healer my lady?" he asked and it was obvious that he was trying to keep his mind off the discomfort he was feeling.

"A good question," she murmured. It wasn't as if she could bloody well tell him about how she had been reincarnated from a different life, one where she had used a wand and been called a witch and fought in a war against a mad man…he might have had her dragged away and placed in a holding cell in the Crag for insanity.

"I am a woman," she said somewhat obviously as if it were not already plain to him. "And there is not much say I have in my own life. Most of my purposes will be devoted to being a good wife and a good mother and I have never aspired to be either."

Well that wasn't quite true…she had been set to marry Ron Weasley after all but given the amount of children that his mother had produced, Pansy had been hoping against hope that he wouldn't expect her to do the same.

"So I became a healer," she continued. "It's one of the few ways a woman can be productive to the world without being a Septa and I've never been much for religion."

Robb Stark chuckled. "No you don't strike me as the sort of person who would be content teaching girls how to embroider."

Against her better judgement, Melara smiled at him and the serious look on her face melted somewhat.

"No," she said. "A needle is just another tool that can be used to kill someone or sew stitches into a man's wound. It is the intent with which it is used. And my intent is to pursue the latter."

"Hmm," he said. "You seem to have the disposition for a master at arms as well."

Melara raised an eyebrow at him. "Was that a compliment your grace?"

He gave her a small smile, "I don't know."

All of a sudden he flinched and glanced down at the wound and Melara knew that the temperature of the moonstone mixture on the wound had changed.

She bent down and retrieved several bandages from her bag before reaching to wrap them about his torso, suddenly very aware that she about to do something rather intimate.

 _Don't be a bloody fool, you're wrapping the man's chest, not fucking him._

In order to stave off any awkwardness that she was feeling however she kept her eyes on the wound as she wrapped the bandages around him, thus ensuring that the mixture would be sealed against his side.

"If you're curious about whether or not the mixture is supposed to go from cold to warm," she said when she saw him open his mouth. "The answer is yes. The mixture has now adjusted to your body temperature and it now working to repair the skin that was damaged from the arrow head. You should be fine within a few hours."

He frowned at her. "A few hours? Most wounds like this take at least a week for the flesh to knit itself back together."

"One of the wonderful properties of the moonstone your grace," Melara said waving her hand with a bit of a flourish. "Some claim that its properties are magical and while I am not entirely certain if they are right, I have noticed that when a moonstone mixture is applied to a wound or to a scrape or bruise for that matter, the healing time is cut in half."

"Is that so?" the king asked looking both intrigued and curious. "How long would you say it takes to make a potion like this?"

"A few hours," Melara replied doing some quick calculations in her head. Granted it had taken her a few days to brew the quantity she had distributed secretly to her brothers at Oxcross but if she had only been brewing a single batch it would have only taken a few hours.

"Would it be possible for you to brew more of it?" he asked and Melara eyed him carefully. "If I have the right supplies and an adequate amount of time…certainly."

"Good," the king said. "Because my army is in need of a healer to be around at all times. It is not enough to broker the services of ever maester in every keep we take be it large or small. We are in the process of sacking the Westerlands and the closer we get to Casterly Rock the more hostile people we will meet who are less willing to help us. I would not trust the maester of any of the bannermen of the Lannisters to treat any of my men with the intent to do no harm. Therefore we must employ our own healer."

To say she was surprised was an understatement. Melara wasn't used to being shocked and the fact that the young king had managed to do so annoyed her.

This was not good. She had already been spending a good deal of time away from the Twins but if she were to begin spending weeks away from the Crossing her father might begin to become suspicious.

 _You're a witch you idiot!_ A small voice yelled in her mind that sounded suspiciously like the old Pansy Parkinson. _Just Confund the man! Besides he's too much of an idiot to notice when one of his children spends weeks in her chambers and in bed anyway, how much more would he be oblivious to this? You can just apparate back to the Twins at_ _night and mess up the sheets in the bed if there is any trouble._

This was going to be complicated.

But in this way she could also keep an eye on her brothers and ensure that no harm came to them that she could not fix.

It also allowed her a chance to become better acquainted with Robb Stark…she was to marry him after all.

He didn't know that however.

She was going to have a lot to explain to her brothers who Wyn had no doubt told by now that she was here.

Gods….

Melara blinked and then became aware that Robb was still looking at her with his deep blue eyes from the bed.

"Very well then your grace," she fairly choked out before she could stop herself. "It would be an honor to serve."

He nodded sharply. "Good. I shall have someone prepare a tent for you. There will be a guard stationed outside of it – "

"You don't need to do that your grace," she said cutting him off quickly. "I can take care of myself."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Your pardon my lady, but you are a woman in the midst of a war camp. I expect all of my men to be respectful of you but I cannot guarantee it."

Melara narrowed her eyes even further than his and leaned forward slightly so jade eyes looked into blue. "You will find your grace that I am not a woman to run from anything. I have my own ways for dealing with people who are themselves too…forward."

He looked at her for a long time as if assessing how serious she was and silence filled the tent for a moment before he seemed to realize that she meant every word that she said and nodded again. "Very well then."

She opened her mouth to say something and was then cut off when the sound of large padding feet came from behind her.

Melara turned around just in time to nearly have her eyes fall out of her head when an enormous creature the like of which she had only read about in the library of the Twins padded into the tent ahead of a woman with deep red hair and blue eyes the same color as the king in the north.

But Melara's eyes were drawn to the enormous wolf who had stopped walking upon seeing her when it entered the tent and was looking at her with a pair of almost intelligent eyes. It was the biggest wolf she had ever seen and she right away that she was seeing a creature that had been extinct south of the wall for centuries.

A direwolf.

Robb noticed the focus of her gaze and the surprise on her face and he smile slightly. "I suppose you would meet him soon enough seeing as how you are to remain in this camp for a time my lady. This is Grey Wind."

The enormous wolf padded over and stopped several feet from Melara, nostrils flaring slightly as if he were smelling her.

Once she had gotten over her shock of seeing a creature from legend, Melara blinked and leaned closer to the wolf whose large eyes were staring at her as if she were a rather peculiar looking toy.

Strangely enough, though she didn't feel afraid of him. Carefully she reached out a hand, conscious that this creature could bite her arm off if it wanted to but she had a feeling he wouldn't.

Her suspicions proved correct when after smelling her hand, Grey Wind licked it and then began to wag his tail much to her astonishment.

Robb was frowning. "Odd that. He's usually rather suspicious of new people around me."

"You'll find that your wolf is rather charmed by women," said the voice of the woman who had followed the direwolf and both the king and Melara looked up at her.

Melara found herself blinking again.

She had had a feeling that this woman was Catelyn Stark the mother of the King in the North, but she had not seen the thing that would give her the most cause for surprise.

The red head had seated herself in a chair across the tent and was watching the two of them with an amused look on her face. And her hands were folded atop her rather large belly, causing Melara's eyes to go wide with surprise.

The woman was heavy with child.

The brunette found she was rather incapable of forming a rather coherent thought at the moment other than: _What the bloody hell?!_

Gods she sounded like Ron.

Melara was well aware that Lady Catelyn's husband had died a few moons earlier…so how was she pregnant?

It had to have been her late husband's child as her hands were folded atop her stomach as if this was completely normal.

But how?

"Mother," Robb said adjusting his position so that he could speak to the woman. "This is Lady Talisa."

"So this is the one with the rather sharp tongue that you told me you had met at Oxcross," Catelyn Stark replied and Melara raised an eyebrow.

 _Gods does the whole camp know about me?!_

To her surprise Robb grimaced slightly. "Indeed. Lady Talisa is a healer which we are in need of in this camp who will be accompanying us for the foreseeable future."

"I see," his mother replied though her tone suggested that she was seeing much more than she was letting on.

Robb seemed a bit uncomfortable with his mother's gaze for he turned back to Melara. "I will have a guard show you to your tent my lady."

"Thank you your grace," she said getting to her feet and giving him a sharp curtsy. "Try not to move too much. The moonstone mixture will speed up the healing process but it will be worth nothing if you try to fight again while it is still drying."

He gave her a small smile. "I'll try to keep still but I make no promises my lady."

She snorted slightly before bending down to pick up her bag and sling it over her shoulders before turning to Catelyn Stark and giving her another sharp curtsy. "My lady."

"Lady Talisa."

She couldn't wait to get out of there after that. The moment Melara was outside the tent and walking away from it she let out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding.

 _I am in way over my head._

Ω

 **Okay, so two things that I am sure you are all wondering about. The first is you probably wish to know what on earth Theon is doing with Robb right now. At this point in the books he would have taken Winterfell already and Robb would have recieved news of it right away which prompts him to be comforted by Jeyne Westerling which leads to his downfall with the Freys. However in this instance, Theon has already been to the Iron Islands and left when his father basically told him to choose between his family and Robb. I always did wonder what might have happened had Theon not turned his cloak and betrayed Robb so I decided to see where this path would take me with this story. Winterfell is still not safe though, not by any means. Secondly, you are probably wondering why Catelyn is pregnant. No this is not Littlefinger's love child that was conceived when he came to deliver Ned's body to her. This child was conceived when she came to King's Landing to meet with Ned and give him the news of Bran's attack and her investigation of it with the help of Littlefinger. (By the way, I HATE THAT GUY.) Since it has only been several months since then I wondered what might have happened if another child had been born to the Starks. So I am exploring that path as well. Anyway that's all for now, don't forget to review and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

She had always hated waiting.

Even when she was Pansy Parkinson, patience had never been her strong suit and it was one of the reasons she had done poorly in her first year of school. She had never had the patience to see any of her charms or potions through and it had cost her some rather easy grades.

But now she had the benefit of almost forty years of life experience in one brain so as much as it still annoyed her, Melara swallowed her aggravation and waited for night to fall.

At the moment she had been given a small but surprisingly comfortable tent not from that of the king's and she wasn't sure whether she should be pleased with the fact that he had seen to her needs or somewhat annoyed that she was in this position in the first place.

Either way she ahd nothing to do but wait until nightfall and stew in those so needless to say when the flap of her tent did open and all four of her brothers piled into the tent and shut it behind them she had had nothing to do but pace and fume.

Thankfully she only had to deal with three of her brothers because Wyn already knew.

That didn't mean that he was any less annoyed however.

"I thought we asked you to stay out of this!" Ben demanded as he paced about the tent that night. There was only one candle lit on the table in the middle of the tent to feign the idea of sleep. As it was, the camp was quiet and Melara had just been about to cast some preliminary safety wards around it until her older brothers had shown up.

Which had been right that second.

"Yes well, I think we're past that point at this juncture," she snapped back to Ben. "Besides, I am already involved whether I want to be or not. I've known of my impending marriage to Robb Stark for weeks. So how is it that I am not to be involved?"  
"In the fighting Mel!" Will snapped. "In the fighting is where we did not want you to be. I think I speak for all of us when we learned that Robb Stark had requested permission to use the Crossing to get across to Riverrun. Father's been wanting to marry you off since you turned thirteen and turned half the heads of the minor lords he invited for a meeting at the Twins. You don't think that we might suspect he was looking for a high level match for you?"

"Suspect but not know!" Wyn snapped at his brother. "Suspicion is not the same as truth and now you and father have involved yourself in this war Mel!"

"So what is it that you are more upset about?" Melara demanded. "That I am to marry Robb Stark or that I am here actually seeing you and the man himself?"

"Both!" her three older brothers snapped.

Then they looked at Olyvar who had been strangely silent up until this point and had just then cleared his throat.

"Do you have anything to say brother?" Wyn ground out with barely restrained patience.

Olyvar shrugged. "I simply don't understand why the rest of you are so upset. This is Melara we are speaking of. When has she ever listened to any of us? Yes she has magic but she has never drawn attention to herself by using it in a public manner and as far as we are concerned, the king does not know who she is."

"He will in a few weeks when the two of them wed!" Benfrey snapped, glaring daggers at his younger sister. "What was your plan hmm? To simply carry on as if your name is really Talisa and you were nothing more than a simple healer and then when the King in the North returns to the Crossing to waltz down the stairs when father calls for you to meet Robb Stark has if you have never seen him before?"

 _When he puts it that way it really does sound asinine._

"Robb Stark was not a part of this plan to begin with," Melara snapped back at her brother. "What was the plan was checking up on you and making certain that you four were kept alive and had the means to get through this war. Robb Stark coming upon me at Oxcross weeks ago was merely an accident that could not have been foreseen. Yes I was wondering if I might get a glimpse of him while I was there but not to speak with him!"

"Well you did a fine job of that didn't you? Wyn demanded. "And now you have put Ben and I in a difficult position because not only are you deceiving the king, you are asking us to deceive him as well because we know who you are. Did you really expect this to end well?"

"I didn't know how this was going to end!" Melara shot back. "When I came to the Crag, I came for the purpose of checking up on the four of you. I did not ask Roose Bolton to come along and see me tending to Wyn by that rock in the glade! Nor did I ask for him to ask me to go with him to attend to a wound that Robb Stark had received. You act as if I planned this as some elaborate scheme to gain a rapport with my betrothed, but you four were the only purpose of my coming to the battles at all!"

Will sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "That may have been your purpose but that is not what happened. And now all five of us have been put in a difficult position. Robb Stark is a man of honor but he does not like being deceived. Suppose when he comes for the wedding at the Twins in a few weeks and learns the truth of who you really are, he decides to break off this marriage contract. I cannot imagine that father will be pleased."

"He will not do that," Melara said with certainty.

"And how do you know?" Wyn demanded.

"Because I will tell him the truth and I will tell him that you four had no knowledge of my being here. If I am to be in his army as a healer than I might as well be productive about it and serve the soldiers. I don't know how long we are going to be at the Crag so I'll think up a plan during the time that I do have."

That seemed to pacify Ben. "When will you tell him? The sooner you do it the better. The more you dig yourself into this madness the farther you drag us in and it will be easier for all involved if you do it as soon as possible?"

"I know," Melara ground out. "Do you think I wanted any of this? Robb Stark seems a decent man but deceiving my betrothed before we are to wed is not how I wanted to go about starting a married life. I did not intend to deceive anyone, all I wanted to do was ensure that you were alright and make certain that the potions I was providing you with are working."

Wyn's face softened and Benfrey ran a hand through his hair. "I know Mel, and these are all noble intentions but – "

 _But the road to hell is paved with good intentions…damn Granger, she had a saying for absolutely everything under the sun!_

"But in the end it caused more problems," Melara finished for him. "I know. I'm sorry."

Ben sighed. "It's alright, it just makes things awkward that's all. Thankfully you have only had two conversations with the king so it makes it easier to nip things in the bud."

All of a sudden Ollie cursed and his other four siblings turned to him. "What is it?"

"If Melara tells Robb Stark the news that she is not this Talisa and is in fact our sister, how is she going to explain how she got here? Or the travel distance between here and the Twins for that matter? He hasn't seen her before this day since Oxcross. How do we explain her disappearance if all the healers that the army has employed have been with them for that time? We can't exactly tell him about her magic."

Wyn ran a hand through his hair and Ben let loose an interesting string of swear words without somehow managing to say the same words twice.

 _Someone has been paying attention to Father and Black Walder._

Will shook his head. "That's the least of our concerns right now. Mel has always come and gone like a ghost with or without her magic. And Robb Stark has a large enough army that walking back and forth through it would take a great deal of time so it is entirely possible that he could have missed her. We being her brothers and being aware of her presence would have helped to hide her. It can be somewhat easily explained away."

"Alright," Wyn said. He didn't look happy but he did look pacified. "But you will need to do it soon Mel, before this problem becomes any worse."

"Alright!" their sister snapped. "I'll deal with it."

"Good," Ben shot back.

Another moment passed in which there was silence in the tent. Melara was glad she had put up silencing charms about the place so that it ensured that no one would hear them. She had had a feeling there was going to be some yelling and cursing when her brothers arrived and as it turned out she was right.

"Now if you four are quite done," she said tightly. "I have some more moonstones to collect. I have been commissioned by his grace the king to make more of the mixture to serve as a poultice for any other wounds that I am presented with."

"Very well," Wyn said. "But for the love of the gods old and new, please be careful. We are in the west and sacking the keeps of Lannister vassals. The closer we get to Casterly Rock, the more dangerous this venture becomes and the harder it will be to keep this secret. Your wedding to Robb Stark will take place in a few weeks and things are already tense enough around here."

"I understand," Melara ground out.

"Good."

Her brothers left one by one until it was only Olly left in the tent and from the way he was lingering, the brunette had a feeling that there was something that he wanted to say.

"What is it Olly?" she asked.

He took a deep breath and finally met her eyes. "As much as they are worried about this getting out…I'm glad you're here Mel."

She blinked and stared at him. "You are?"

He smiled at her. "Yes. You've never really followed the rules and it figures that you would get yourself into a situation like this. I suppose having you as my sister is far more interesting than someone who would sit around and embroider all day."

Melara raised an eyebrow, her expression softening somewhat. "You always had an odd way of giving compliments."

"One of my many flaws no doubt."

"It is."

"Just be careful," he said to her. "Wyn and Ben and Will are all a little tense right now and the last thing that needs to happen is word of our sister being here. I know you know how to take care of yourself probably better than we do, but there is always room for caution."

"Noted."

"Good."

He left soon after and Melara closed her eyes and issued a deep sigh of exhaustion. _Merlin when did this become so complicated?_

She took her cloak down from the hook by the bed and wrapped it about herself before taking up her basket and venturing outside the tent. She had placed wards about it so that no one would enter when she was away and mess with her things and that no one would come in the middle of the night.

She was in a camp full of men, there had to be some sort of precautions.

The moment she was nothing more than a shadow in the night, Melara hurried through the camp, taking care to remain away from the fires so that she would not be seen and walking as quickly as she could to the edge of the camp.

She doubted that there would be many people moving about this late at night and no doubt the king had already gone to sleep so there was no chance of Melara seeing him, for which she was oddly grateful.

Two things were needed on this night. She needed to return to the Twins and confund her father into thinking that she had slept in her bed all night and the main servant who cleaned her chambers every morning.

The last thing that needed to happen was gossip.

That was something that Melara couldn't afford.

 _I'll retrieve some of the ingredients that I set aside in my chambers while I'm in the Twins and then I'll deal with confunding father and the servant and then come back. Something tells me I'm going to need all the help I can get if I am to service as a healer for this camp._

It had been odd seeing Robb Stark again, she mused as she walked. Thankfully they had not gotten into an argument this time and she had left him in better shape than she had found him.

 _I have a feeling that once we marry I'm going to have to get used to patching him up all the time until this thrice damned war is complete._

She still wasn't certain what she thought about the idea of marrying Robb Stark but it might as well be something she thought about more often as she had a feeling in no more than a moon she would be saying her vows in the sept in the Twins.

The thought made her stomach churn unconsciously and she glared down at it. Few things made her nervous as in her old life she had hunted down dangerous animals for a living and relocated them to different areas where they couldn't harm humans.

Granger had often said her resting bitch face was only a gateway to her nerves of steel complex but Pansy had only laughed her off.

Granger was still as frustrating as ever but there were times when Melara missed the annoying little bookworm. She wondered what Granger would have said about her marriage to Robb Stark.

She probably would blustered and sputtered about how arranged marriages were the definition of archaic and that people should choose who they wanted to marry and when they wanted to marry as it was part of a civilized society.

 _Bloody hell, I can still hear her voice in my head._

The moment Melara was outside of the camp, she lifted up her long skirts and ran like hell to the edge of the trees that bordered on the glade where she had found Wyn earlier that day.

The second her back was pressed to one of the trees and she was hidden from view by the entire camp, the brunette disillusioned herself and took a deep breath before spinning on her heel and apparating to the Twins.

Thankfully when she landed back in her chambers there was no one in them at the time and it allowed her a moment to catch her breath and take off her cloak. She was still disillusioned and she grimaced when she felt the slight draw on her strength from the effort of maintaining the spell through an apparition.

 _I need to build up my magical metabolism,_ she thought grimly to herself as she went searching for some of the books she had kept underneath her bed where no one would find them. _Practicing magic with a wand and concentrating is difficult but trying to use magic without one is damn near impossible. Even when I was still in the DCRDC practising magic without a wand required a great deal of concentration and focus. It's become easier since I have done little else but practice it in this new body for the last sixteen years, but that doesn't mean that I still don't become tired when I use it too much. But I haven't figured out how to build a wand in this world or if even such a thing is possible._

Melara got down on her hands and knees and began pulling things out from under her bed and noted with satisfaction the leather bound book that she pulled out.

Since coming to Westeros and stealing a few moments to herself, Melara had begun to keep a journal of her memories of her old life. It was comforting in some ways to look back on the life she had left behind and remember all her memories of her time at school and the new friends she had made in Granger, Potter and Lovegood.

There were also detailed memories of Ron in the journal and some of the tender sweet moments they had shared together as they had become a couple.

Looking over one of the later pages in the journal, Melara felt a smile come to her face as she reminisced. _I hope everyone back in England is well._

A moment later, she snapped the book shut and placed it in the basket she had brought with her before going to the dresser that was situated across the room near the fire and pulling out the lowermost drawer, the one that she had carved a false bottom into years ago.

She had stocked most of it with the leftover moonstone mixture that she had not been able to leave with her brothers at Oxcross and quickly filled her bag.

The pot she had strategically placed atop the dresser which was pretty high off the floor of her chambers had also not been found and she snatched that up as well before placing it under her arm.

 _I'll need to gather some more moonstones from the creek outside the keep before going back to the Crag tonight and I need to confund father and the maid so they say that they have seen me come the morning. Thankfully that is the easiest part of this entire juncture._

She glanced back at the bed and the then put her bag down before going back to dig out two more items that she had carefully placed there since she had come back from Oxcross. The two long knives Benfrey had given her as a gift on her fourteenth name day. It had been something she had cherished as when she was still Pansy she had often used similar blades to take down the dangerous animals that she and Granger couldn't capture. The blades themselves only went from the ends of her fingers to the middle of her upper arms and did not have the reach that a long sword did, but they served their purpose well enough.

 _"Now I hope you never have to use these Mel," Ben had told her the day he had given them to her in secret when the moon was high over the Twins. "They are only if you absolutely have to use them. For everything else, use your magic."_

Fighting with two swords in this world was rather unorthodox and the only time it had ever been done was perhaps in Dorne or across the Narrow Sea in Essos. The Dothraki were famous for their unorthodox ways of fighting and using two swords to take the heads of their enemies was one thing the employed.

No one really fought using two swords in Westeros but that was the only way that Pansy had learned in England. If she were to employ the tactic here, it would require her having to get in closer to use them which put her within the reach of her opponent's longsword.

So it really was a plus or minus outlook.

Once she had packed the necessary items away, Melara strode to the door and slipped out into the hall before striding down it to the part of the Twins where she knew Walder Frey would be.

His solar.

Sure enough, when she peeked in through the door, the Lord of the Crossing was asleep at his desk, mouth open and loud snores pouring forth from it. There was a small drool stain coming from the corner of his mouth and Melara wrinkled her nose in disgust at the sight of it.

 _For the love of Merlin could you be any more disgusting!?_

She took a deep breath before stealing up to him and muttering the charm underneath her breath. There was a small green flash of light as the magic took hold but the only thing that was a result of it was Walder Frey simply shifting in his chair and smacking his lips together as if he had just eaten a satisfying meal.

Her lower lip curling even further, Melara hitched her bag further up on her shoulder and hurried off to her sister's room. Confunding her own sister was not something that was high on her priority list but at the moment it was a means to an end.

Despite what a convenience magic was, she couldn't be in two places at once and the brunette had a feeling that her sister was going to notice before long that she was missing.

Her sister knew about her magic as well, but she was terribly shy and a dreadful liar. There was no way that she would have been able to keep this secret and it would only endanger her if she tried.

This way Melara was doing her a favor.

When the brunette peeked into her sister's chambers which were just down the hall from her own, she was pleased to see that the younger girl was also sleeping like her father. She had been doing that a lot lately, but Melara knew it was for a much different reason.

She had a feeling that the girl suffered from depression which had set in since Bethany died and had never really gone away. She had good days and bad days but since the war had commenced and their brothers were away fighting it, she had only worsened.

And there was really nothing that Melara knew how to do to help her. She had never met someone magical who had depression before and as far as she knew, there was no cure for it. Granger had told her once that she had had a cousin who suffered from depression and it had to do with the neurons misfiring in the brain which she had termed as clinical depression. Circumstantial depression had more to do with the situation that a person was in bringing on feelings of sadness and anxiety.

In this case, Melara had a feeling that her younger sister was suffering from both.

She sighed as she looked down on her, asleep in the bed and then noted the plate of untouched food that had been set on the bedside table.

"I wish it didn't have to be like this Ros," she whispered as quietly as she could. "But we both know you would only put yourself in danger trying to keep my secret. I'm only trying to protect us both."

She took a deep breath then and whispered the words of the _Confundus_ charm under her breath. It was a hybrid of the charm they had used and learned when in school as a stunning and confusing charm was often needed in order to transport the dangerous animals she and Lovegood and Granger had worked with.

This charm would ensure that the maid, her father and Roslin were confused for a day but it would require her coming back every day to ensure that the confusion continued until she could release the charm.

The problem was that she didn't know when she would be able to release the charm…a few weeks? A moon perhaps?

The moment she strode outside of the Twins and was well into the trees, she felt comfortable letting out a stream of curses both at herself and her father and her present situation.

It was just a matter of fate and timing that this had happened but Melara was still frustrated. She had thought that the last time she would see Robb Stark would be on her wedding day and never in her imagination did she think that she would get into an argument with him.

Melara sighed to herself and hurried deeper into the trees where the creek was and where she knew she would find the moonstones.

Sure enough, after a few moments of silent marching the sound of splashing met her ears and she glanced down in satisfaction to see the small creek illuminated by the light of the moon that was shining through the trees.

What made her even more satisfied was to the see the small pearl white stones shining in the bottom of the creek bed and glistening up at her through the water.

Jackpot.

Melara reached into the bag she had brought with her and pulled out the rather large cloth that she often used for tying things of importance into.

She bent and down and began carefully placing the small pearl like moonstones into the cloth. Once the fabric was fit to burst with them, Melara tied the cloth shut and placed it in her bag.

 _It's a good thing I decided to come back at night because moonstones are twice as powerful once they have been bathed in their natural light. The potions I make with these stones will be far more effective now._

She pulled the hood of her cloak back over her head and then spun on her heel, apparating back into her own tent in Robb Stark's camp.

Thankfully it was just as she had left it and Melara immediately lit a candle on the table in the middle of the room before doing the same to the other candles that she had strategically hung in various corners of the tent.

She knew it was risky to have this much fire around cloth but she had charmed the flames to only blaze a certain height and they were far enough away from the tent walls that they would not cause a problem.

The moment the tent was filled with light, Melara stepped outside and assembled a few pieces of wood she had seen lying in the forest when she had returned from the Twins.

Once that had been completed, she cast a wary eye around, making sure that no one else was nearby.

As it was getting late, most of the cooking fires around the tents were out and the camp was mostly quiet save for a late night wind and the distant chattering of the crickets in the woods.

Melara let out a sigh and then knelt down by the pile of wood and muttered the word to the spell that would set it ablaze.

"Incendio."

Immediately a small flame blazed in the heart of the wood and she gave a sharp nod before taking the pot she had taken from the Twins out from under her arm and muttered the spell that would fill it with the slight amount of water that the spell required.

"Aguamenti."

Instantly a clear water filled the pot without making a sound and after constructing a makeshift spit with two long large sticks she had also retrieved in the wood, she hung the pot from them and sat down on a rock to wait for the water to heat up.

It would take some time for the water to become hot enough for her to add the moonstones for the temperature that was needed for them to melt and become liquid was quite hot.

She had always been fascinated by the process which caused moonstones to form which was merely a mix of moonlight, cold water and sand at a high concentration. It took an enormous amount of pressure for the stones to form so Melara was convinced that there was a natural fissure in the earth near the Twins that allowed for the right amount of pressure to be achieved.

There had always been an abundance of moonstones in the bottom of the creek bed so all she had to do was reach her hand beneath the surface of the water and pull handfuls out.

In the meantime she needed to wait until the water was steaming but not bubbling before she put the herbs and medicinal flowers into the mixture.

Something that was continuously annoying about this new land of Westeros that she was living in had to do with the very different plants and herbs and stones that she found which altered the potions she made some times.

In some ways, some of the ingredients she would use to make a potion were the same. The moonstones hadn't changed nor had the batwings, sea salt, bane berry or bezoar for that matter. Bezoars were always found in the stomach of a goat and so because there were also goats in Westeros like there were in England, that one aspect hadn't changed which comforting as a bezoar acted as a counter to most poisons. Frogs and eagle owl feathers were still applicable ingredients that hadn't changed as were lizards legs, mint, morning dew, mushrooms, daisies, dandelion roots, lavender, leeches, lemon grass, rose oil and rose thorns as well as salamanders as well as kelp horse hair honey water, hemlock, ginger, newts and nettles.

So fortunately for her a lot of the ingredients that she had used in potions in the past were still available here, she just needed to look for them as there weren't very many apothecaries around the Twins.

The only problem was that those were somewhat common ingredients to cure common ailments. If she wanted to take care of the big things, she would need the rarer ingredients and those were hard to come by.

Things like flying seahorses, horklump juice, griffin claws, basilisk venom and scales, dragon's blood and claws and doxy eggs were available to her.

One thing that would be the simplest to have if indeed this animal did in fact exist in Westeros were phoenix tears.

Ron had told her about his and Potter's adventures in the Chamber of Secrets when they were in their second year of school and how the boy wonder had almost gotten himself killed when a basilisk tooth had damn near punctured his arm. Fawkes, Dumbledore's enormous red chicken had come to his rescue and dripped tears into his arm which had expunged the poison allowing him to escape with his life and Ron's sister Ginny.

She had wanted to scream at her fiancé for doing something so stupid but he had quelled her by saying that not really any of it had been their fault, Moaning Myrtle the ghost in the girl's toilets and the resident entity in Hogwarts that Pansy had wished she could bring back to life to kill again because she was so annoying had decided for some reason that Harry and Ron needed to go down into the hole where the basilisk was.

She smiled a little to herself as she sat hunched on the rock by the fire reminiscing over all the adventures she had with the golden trio after the war had ended.

They weren't bad people, a little annoying perhaps with their saviour complexes but they were also Gryffindors who took the expression _where dwell the brave at heart_ a little too seriously.

She still missed them sometimes.

Ron had a way of breaking into her thoughts when he thought she was beginning to brood a little too much and loosening her up when she was too high strung.

She had been the one to caution him to think before he went racing into something dangerous or went off on a tangent about something he knew nothing about.

He was the more idealistic in their relationship and she was the more pragmatic but in the end…they had worked.

She sighed again and eyed the water beginning to steam in the pot. Time to add the dandelion roots, daisies, eagle owl feathers, rose thorns, mint and the quill of a porcupine.

Aside from the moonstones, the mint was the most important aspect of the potion as it detoxified the wound and aided the inner cleansing and leeching of an infection.

She removed the necessary ingredients from the bag at her feet and tossed them into the steaming pot before retrieving a long wooden spoon from a hidden pocket in the same bag and sticking it into the mixture.

It would take at least an hour or so for the mixture to form a more stew life broth and then she could add the rose oil. It was the one part of the entire potion besides the mint that was pleasant and would serve as a thickening agent. Once that happened she could add about ten moonstones for maximum potency and simply wait for the mixture to thicken to a cream like substance that was supposed to be a milky green color from the mint and the moonstones. Then she could bottle it and put it away.

 _It's a shame dragons aren't prevalent here like they used to be,_ Melara thought to herself as she stirred the mixture clockwise three times and then counter clockwise another few times. _Other than hearing a few odd rumors from across the Narrow Sea, dragons have been extinct here for centuries and their claws, blood and scales are excellent ingredients in potions that counter poison, relieve sickness and cure wounds. What I would give for a handful of dragon claws and a vial of dragon blood right now. The ancient Valyrians really didn't know what they had when they had it. They looked at the dragons and all they saw were weapons to conquer and crush. If they had actually_ _possessed sense they would have looked into the connection that dragons had to magic and learned about how they could help people and not just harm them. But it makes sense that they were ignorant of this seeing as how the Targaryens were simply lesser dragon lords._

Melara had read all about ancient Valyria…well as much as she could and she had happened upon the names of several of the ancient Valyrian families who had been greater than the Targaryens before the Doom.

One of them was the Vespasians. This family had learned how to not only breed dragons but become them as well. They knew how to become animagi in the most powerful form possible and the secret had been lost when Valyria fell.

There were times when Melara wished instead of being born a girl she had been a lesser son of Walder Frey so that she could do whatever it was that she wanted. If she had a choice she would go to Old Valyria and the Smoking Sea and spend the rest of her life uncovering the secrets of that ancient place.

Even growing up as a student of in Slytherin House she had known that the most important thing above anything else was the knowledge was power. It was something Draco had always spouted. He claimed that Potter had had none of it and got by on sheer luck alone.

While some of that may have been true, Melara had been more interested in what came after having such necessary knowledge.

As it was, that phrase was true in any circumstance she was in.

And if she wanted to win, she had to win by knowledge and not honor.

The mixture hissed and she glanced up to see that it was beginning to thicken, causing the brunette to smile in satisfaction. _Good, it's almost ready for me to add the moonstones._

She reached into her bag and pulled out the knotted cloth that contained the pearl like stones and dropped it into her lap.

She had no sooner untied the knot and reached inside when the sound of footsteps met her ears.

Out of the corner of her eye, the brunette glanced up and wanted to smirk to herself when she saw the familiar form of a man coming towards her.

"Shouldn't you be resting your grace?" she asked as she looked up into the deep blue eyes of Robb Stark before he stopped at the edge of the fire. "That potion is not going to be as effective if you assert yourself too much."

She was half kidding of course, he didn't appear as if he needed to rest. It had been a few hours since she had seen him after all. He was not wearing his armor but a dark grey tunic that spoke to his house colors and a thick fur cloak upon his back. It dwarfed his frame somewhat but Melara had a smirking suspicion that beneath the clothes he was all muscle.

 _I suppose I'll find out whether that's true soon enough,_ she thought absently to herself.

He was watching her intently and in the shadows of the camp and as well as the dancing flames, his deep blue eyes looked almost black.

Unconsciously she shivered and almost missed his next words.

"I find it difficult to sit still for too long," he replied and to her eyes he appeared somewhat amused.

"Somehow I'm not surprised," she countered with just a hint of sarcasm.

"Don't worry my lady I will endeavor to not over extend myself," he said his eyes not having moved from hers the entire time. "May I sit down?"

She blinked in surprise but nodded. "Of course your grace. I would offer you a seat but sadly my camp is lacking one."

He merely chuckled before sitting down across from her and peering into the pot where the mixture was bubbling.

A moment later, he wrinkled his nose and leaned back slightly, blinking somewhat. "Gods, that's strong."

Melara chuckled and stuck the spoon back in before stirring another three times counter clockwise. "It's the mint your grace, in order to employ that cooling sensation you felt earlier when I applied it to your wound earlier. The ginger and aloe cleanse the wound and then the mint revitalizes the cells around the wound before the moonstone works as a regeneration agent to speed up the healing process. In fact I believe I can add the moonstones right now."

The brunette carefully counted out the moonstones needed and then dropped them slowly into the pot one by one.

She glanced up at him to notice that he was watching her with an unfathomable expression and frowned. "Is something wrong your grace?"

He chuckled again and shook his head before running a hand through his dark curls. "Not at all. You are simply a surprising woman lady Talisa."

At the mention of her constructed façade, she had to fight not to grimace as her brother's words drifted into her head about needing to come clean before the wedding.

"I don't really aspire to be what the world tells me to be," she said quietly as she stirred the mixture.

"No I don't suppose you do," he said and then a faint smile of remembrance came to his face. "I have a sister who is like that. She wasn't interested in embroidery pretty dresses or the songs of knights and stories of romance. She would rather be the knight than be rescued by one."

Melara smiled, remembering the spirited girl she had met in King's Landing some moons earlier who was practicing with her small sword. There had been so much determination on her face that it had impressed the brunette.

Ben had been teaching her how to use a sword for around ten years and he often claimed she had been relentless in her desire to learn. Melara had lost count of the number of bruises, pulled muscles and sore arms and legs that she had amassed while learning under her brother.

But it had all been worth it.

The only thing she missed was her uniform. Wearing armor while running around with a sword and hacking at people was something that she absolutely hated.

It was fine if you were a Muggle but because of her magic, Melara did like to think that she had an advantage over the other people she may or may not be fighting.

However, seeing as how she was posing as someone else in this camp, it stood to reason that the only sparring she would be doing was verbal. And most of it would be with her brothers.

"You sound very fond of her," she said and instantly his eyes darkened again, but this time she could tell that it was with anger.

"She did get on my last nerve when we were still in Winterfell but yes…I am extremely fond of her."

Melara had the sudden itch to tell Robb that Arya was not under the control of the Lannisters, that she was somewhere in Westeros, perhaps even in the Riverlands looking for him.

But the truth was a sticky entity and the more layers that were pulled back, the uglier it became…much like a wound.

And the wound would be her magic in this instance.

 _Another time,_ she thought to herself. _Another time._

"What is she like?" she asked, wondering talking about his sisters might be helpful in easing his clearly darkening mood.

Thankfully it worked.

Robb got a slight smile on his face and rubbed the side of his face wryly. "I was often told that Arya is much like my Aunt Lyanna, wild…impulsive and extremely reckless. She doesn't conform to what society tells her to be and for the life of me I couldn't find it in myself to tell her how to act. She would often want to make my mother tear out her hair."

Melara's lips quirked upwards slightly. That did seem like the girl she had met a long time ago in King's Landing.

"Life with her does sound like an adventure," she mused and Robb snorted to her surprise. "It was. It was a constant battle to keep her and my sister Sansa from arguing. At times it was amusing and at other times it was simply annoying."

"Such is how life is with siblings," Melara said with a shrug. "I have older brothers as well and they never cease to remind me of it."

Robb cocked his head to one side and looked at her with thinly disguised interest. "How many siblings do you have my lady?"

"Five," the beautiful brunette replied. "Four brothers and one younger sister. They can be quite overprotective at times."

"I'd imagine so," the king replied.

Melara suddenly began to feel uncomfortable and remembered in great detail her conversation with her brothers.

The longer she held out, the more difficult and complicated things would become.

She was just considering the merits of telling the truth in this very moment when all of a sudden a particularly loud air bubble in the pot popped causing her to flinch with surprise and peer into the mixture to see that it was creaming and thickening nicely.

"Ah," she said with satisfaction. "It's just about ready."

Robb's eyes were drawn to the contents of the pot which was now emitting a spicy sweet scent frowned slightly. "Is it supposed to be quite so thick?"

"It's an ointment your grace," Melara said calmly as she picked up the spoon she had been using to stir it with and began to rummage in her bag for one of the glass bottles she had brought with her.

Creating and keeping potions was a lot of work. Not only did she have to account for the ingredients needed, but also the necessary tools with which to make the ingredients and the tools to keep it cool and safe afterwards.

"And how much does this usually make?" the young wolf asked curiously.

"It depends," Melara explained. "I cannot account for the number of wounds that will be endured throughout the rest of this campaign and this potion is mostly effective when used to heal shallow stabbing wounds or wounds from arrows. If a person is stabbed through the stomach or has a limb amputated there is nothing I can do for them."

"What about that boy we met at Oxcross?" he asked and she blinked at the memory. "You seemed ready to amputate his foot and then you rummaged around in your bag before applying some sort of potion to the wound."

"That potion and this one are the same your grace," Melara replied quietly as she began to spoon the mixture into the bottles she had brought with her. "The ginger in the potion acts as a cleansing agent and the moonstones promote healing while staving off an infection."

"I see," he replied picking up one of the already bottled potions and looking intently through the glass at the opaque ointment. "Is it supposed to be this color?"

"The milky shade is from the moonstones and the pale green tone is from the mint," Melara replied.

She had run out of bottles at this point and resolved to apparating back to the Twins to retrieve some more once she and the king had parted ways.

"Are there any other ointments that you can make that help in illness and wounds?" he asked, looking up from the bottle to her face curiously.

Melara cocked her head to the side for a moment before running through the list of potions in her head. When she had reached her sixth year of school, as her summer reading project she had had to brew almost all of the potions in the sixth year text book.

Needless to say she had not left her room in Parkinson manor for about eight weeks.

"There is one such mixture called a blood replenishing potion," she said slowly. "But it is very difficult to make. Some of the ingredients I don't have and have no way of getting. It's a shame because if brewed correctly it can replace the blood lost from a wound in battle."

Robb's eyes had widened slightly and she felt someone pleased that she had managed to surprise him.

"Such a potion would be extremely helpful," he said. "It may save countless lives and prevent the shrinking of armies. Tell me, how would you brew it?"

He seemed excited about the prospect of a discovery and Melara flinched slightly, knowing she would have to disappoint him.

"It's not that simple your grace. In order to make a blood replenishing potion correctly, I would need something called Valerian root and it is something that I have never been able to find."

 _Here,_ she thought to herself. _It's something I have never been able to find_ here.

He sighed and she could tell he was disappointed by the prospect. Frankly she was too. Being able to make a blood replenishing potion would be extremely helpful and could prevent the loss of lives, especially in the war time they were in.

"Are there any others?" he asked.

"There is one," she said. "And it only has three ingredients, but I've never learned how to make it."

"What is it?"

"It is a potion to regrow bones that have broken."

The young wolf blinked and then stared at her for a moment. "Such a thing would be possible?"

"With the necessary tools," Melara said carefully. She was treading a thin line here and knew that she needed to keep any knowledge of magic secret and right now they were getting into the realm of it.

"What tools are those?" he asked.

Melara sighed. "In order to make it, I would need something called a chomping cabbage, three puffer fish and what are called five scarab beetles. I can only conclude that such ingredients would be found in Essos, the Dothraki Sea perhaps, but I have never been able to find them here."

Robb muttered a faint curse under his breath and she smirked slightly. "My sentiments exactly. Making something like a potion that would aid re-growing broken bones would be vital to the war effort."

"It would," he said with a sigh. "But if the ingredients are not available than there is not much you can do now is there?"

"Unfortunately no."

"Where did you learn all of this?" he asked suddenly. "While healing is a fine occupation in and of itself, I do not often see women pursuing it."

Melara raised an eyebrow. "As I said before your grace, I do not aspire to be like other women. And in answer to your question, I learned it from my mother. She was a healer as well."

This was somewhat true, but not in the case of Bethany Rosby. Gwendolyn Parkinson had been an experience healer at St. Mungo's and one of their best to date, she had taught Pansy everything she knew and it had helped the brunette surpass Granger even in the class.

It was something Pansy had never left the bookworm ever forget.

"She must have been quite a lady," Robb said with a slight smile.

"She was," Melara said, her tone turning somewhat sad. As much as she did miss Bethany Rosby, Gwendolyn would always be her first mother and she knew for a fact that the woman was still alive.

 _I never did get to say goodbye._

"My apologies," Robb said softly and she looked up at him to see that he was watching her closely. There was understanding in those sapphire blue depths and for a moment she remembered that he did know what it was like to lose someone.

"It was a long time ago," she said softly.

"Losing someone is never easy," the young wolf replied, his expression turning somewhat dark. "Especially if that person was lost before their time or taken from you."

Melara felt herself soften slightly for she knew he was talking about his father

"Lord Stark must have been a remarkable man," she said softly and a muscle jumped in Robb's cheek. "He was."

Melara sighed, not entirely happy with the way that the conversation had gone but knowing that bitter truths were one of the few things they would have in common when they were wed.

 _I certainly hope that the conversations we have then are better than this,_ she thought to herself.

A slight rustle drew her attention and she glanced upward to see the young king getting to his feet. "It is getting late. I will leave you to your rest Lady Talisa, I have a feeling you're going to need it in the coming days. Thank you for the company."

"Your welcome your grace, she replied and he inclined his head to her before moving off through the tents back to his own no doubt.

The moment he was gone, Melara extinguished the fire and picked up the pot full of the moonstone mixture and the vials and strode back into her tent before storing the vials back into the bag and setting the pot on the table.

She erected her customary wards that would ensure no one came into the tent in the middle of the night and changed quickly into the night gowns he had brought with her and falling into the small cot.

It had been a long day, and she had a feeling that she would be in for a much longer one come the morning.

Ω

 **More conversations this chapter will mean more action next chapter. Don't forget to review!**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Dreams were something that were new to Melara Frey.

Even when she had been known as Pansy Parkinson she couldn't lay claim to the night time visions the way some of her friends and classmates could. Ron had told her that Harry had had many dreams and visions that had affected him when they were all going to school. Sometimes the red head had told her that his friend had told him that his head felt like it was going to split apart from the pain.

They now knew that it was the strange connection he had had to Voldemort in the form of the Horcrux that had blasted out of the Dark Lord upon his first death.

She had seen and heard of a lot of dark magical spells but that was by far one of the blackest and most evil.

Soul magic was a very rare and evil thing and something her ancestors had been very reluctant to touch for as soon as someone went down that dark path, it was very hard to come out of again.

Her ancestor on her father Callum Parkinson's side in the fourteen hundreds, a few centuries after the Founders had built Hogwarts, had developed a sort of soul magic that allowed one to enter the body of another person by drinking their blood alone.

His talents had caught the attention of Vlad the Impaler. The Muggle culture believed him to be a sadistic madman who placed people on spikes and watched them die for his amusement, but that wasn't completely true.

Yes, Vlad had been a soulless, compassionless psychopath but at the same time…he was not a Muggle. He had been a wizard, a powerful sorcerer twisted and enticed by dark magic and some thought that he was possessed by a demon throughout his life which enabled him to perform these horrible and vile acts.

Her ancestor, a Lucian Parkinson by name had served him and created the spell that Vlad loved. The Impaler had thought that drinking the blood of his victims would make him more powerful and in some ways that was true.

His enemies lived in fear of him as he was more monster than human. Melara was certain even the Dark Lord himself would have been impressed by Vlad Tepes.

Lucian Parkinson revealed to Vlad that by collecting the blood of his victims and kidnapping them, he would embody them and essentially turn into them, look into their minds and know their secrets.

It was a spell that was used to great and terrible effect and needed a good deal of blood to accomplish and armies, cities and towns were wiped out underneath the tyrant's rule.

It was how he had earned his name after all…Dracula…

Granger had showed her several books that were based on him and the royal house of Dracul. It was a very dark and gruesome history that made her grimace when she thought about it.

Along with inventing that particularly vile spell that required Vlad to drink the blood of his victims in order to look into their minds, Lucian Parkinson provided another service to the Impaler.

Divination.

She had never told Granger about it as the bushy haired bookworm would no doubt go off on a tangent about how prophecy was a woolly and ridiculous discipline and how it was impossible to tell the future as it cancelled out choice and changed minds and decisions that the people who made it inevitably formed.

So Pansy had kept that piece of information to herself. But she had spent a lot of time reading up on Lucian Parkinson after the war.

Lucian the Dreamer, he was sometimes referred to as in her family history and it was even rumored that he had had the power to make his dreams come true. The ancient records claimed that he had predicted Vlad's death in battle against the Ottoman Empire.

And it was for that reason that he had had to flee from the Impaler as he knew such a prediction would get him killed.

Pansy didn't know how true that was, but if stories of Vlad's temper and powerful magic were true than it was altogether possible, likely even that he might have killed Lucian had he known the truth.

Since then, the gift of dreaming had been passed down through her family but her grandfather Phillip Parkinson had been the last one to possess it.

Her father had never had a prophetic dream of any sort and neither had she or her brother Trystan.

Which was why it shocked Melara when that night she had a dream the likes of which she had never had before.

It made no sense and shouldn't have been possible given that she wasn't Pansy Parkinson anymore and yet here she was, completely lucid inside her own mind and seeing things that she had never seen before.

 _It was like a sort of fog was descending before her eyes and try as she might to peer through it, she could see nothing on the other side. The mist was like a weight upon her shoulders and head, heavy and oppressive until she felt she might collapse under the heaviness of it._

 _She took a deep breath and forced her head up and her shoulders forward before slowly walking forward through it as there was nowhere else to go.  
_

 _Everywhere the brunette turned she was surrounded by a thick grey mist that congested the air and made it hard for her to breath.  
_

 _Somehow she was aware enough to know that she was dreaming but for some reason she couldn't force herself to awaken no matter how hard she tried.  
_

 _Melara took another deep breath, almost feeling a weight on her chest as she forged forward through the fog.  
_

 _She glanced down and was surprised to see that she couldn't even see past her knees in the mist, or feel her feet for that matter.  
_

 _A feeling of panic coursed through her before she was able to force herself to get a grip.  
_

 _All of a sudden, something cold and wet touched her feet and she reeled back in surprise and gave a rather out of character yelp.  
_

 _A moment later however, a familiar sound met her ears and she blinked, first in surprise and then in delight.  
_

 _It was water…there must have been a stream nearby.  
_

 _A moment later the sound intensified and her head shot back and forth trying to make out the source of the sound but she still didn't see anything.  
_

 _It wasn't until Melara glanced down at her feet that she noticed that she appeared to be standing on a rocky shoreline with cold water lapping at her toes._

 _This was another surprise as she was completely barefoot. But the water wasn't just cold…it was freezing, the sort of cold that made one dizzy when they plunged into it.  
_

Where the bloody hell am I?! _she thought to herself.  
_

 _The thought had no sooner passed through her mind when she looked up again and was baffled to notice strange shaped coming out of the fog towards her.  
_

 _After a moment however, Melara realized that the shapes were merely materializing out of the mist and that she was looking at something very odd.  
_

 _It was a forest she was staring into, deep green leafy trees and dark brown trunks emerged from the mist and grew into greater and greater detail the longer that she looked at them.  
_

 _It wasn't until a few moments passed that she realized she was looking at an island of sorts across a wide but shallow stream.  
_

 _She looked behind her then and noted that there was nothing else to see at her back. In fact the mist seemed to be coming all around her now, as if it were pursuing her to envelop or swallow her up.  
_

 _There was nowhere else to go but forward, she realized.  
_

 _Though it was insane, Melara had a feeling she was supposed to go towards those trees. She couldn't go back or to the sides and she had no idea how long the stream went on for.  
_

 _So she did the only thing natural and stepped into the river.  
_

 _The water was horribly cold and the moment it touched her skin she seized up like a board and nearly toppled over.  
_

 _At the last minute however, she somehow managed to control herself and straightened up before walking further into the water.  
_

 _It weight was even worse than that of the fog and with each step Melara felt with crushing certainty that the water was trying to drag her under, seeking to gain a foothold on whatever part of her that it could and suck her beneath the waves where she would never be seen again.  
_

 _Something about the water she was wading through felt…evil. She didn't know how and she didn't know why but the waves almost seemed sentient, like they were sensing her fear and her comfortability with the situation or lack thereof and were taking advantage of it.  
_

 _It was in that moment that Melara realized that she could no longer feel her feet against the rocks at the bottom of the river anymore and she would have to swim from there on in.  
_

 _Her clothing was dragging her down and making it hard to keep her head above water but somehow in the back of her mind she knew she had to.  
_

 _The deeper she went into the water and the higher it rose on her body, the more intense the feeling became until the brunette literally felt as if she were fighting for breath and the deep breaths she was taking didn't seem to be enough as her heart rate sped up and her hands and limbs began to shake.  
_

 _If something didn't happen soon, she knew her strength was going to give out and she was going to drown.  
_

 _Somehow the waves changed direction down the river which didn't even make sense and were now coming at her full tilt.  
_

 _Melara flailed, sputtered and coughed violently when a wave she hadn't seen coming crashed over her head and the world went dark for a moment as she was beneath the water. She opened her eyes but could see nothing but the utter blackness of the deep.  
_

 _A river shouldn't be this dark…nothing should have been that dark.  
_

 _She raised her head somehow and looked above her only to see the faint light of the surface far away.  
_

 _How had she sunk down so far?  
_

 _Melara knew in that instant that if she didn't do something, she was going to die and that realization propelled her to action.  
_

 _She lashed out with her feet and arms and prepared to swim to the surface, but she had made it no more than a few feet upward when something latched hold of her leg and began tugging at her with a hideous strength.  
_

 _She glanced downward and almost froze in shock when she saw the thing that was tugging at her.  
_

 _It was no river monster or creature of the deep that she had ever seen before. Instead, this creature was white…stark white with long white hair that floated about it most hideously in the water but did nothing to hide its blue eyes.  
_

 _The shone in the creature's face like two iridescent stars, but there was nothing beautiful about them.  
_

 _In the dark of the deep, the skin of the creature almost seemed to glow and its strength became even more prodigious.  
_

 _Despite her practical side telling her that it was futile, Melara clawed upward still, determined to reach the surface.  
_

 _The chance was sucked from her grasp again when with an even tighter grip and vice like hold on her ankle, she was dragged down once more.  
_

 _Her lungs were screaming for air by this time and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold on without air for much more.  
_

 _This was the end.  
_

 _And then…out of the deep the water began to tremble.  
_

 _Melara looked around wildly, trying to ascertain the source of this new devilry but there was no new figure emerging through the dark water.  
_

 _But the trembling continued.  
_

 _There was a hideous screech from below her and Melara looked down to see that somehow the creature had lost control of her leg.  
_

 _And then out of the darkness…a voice reached her ears.  
_

 _It was a strange and terrible voice, old ancient and powerful and one that made her tremble like a leaf.  
_

 **You have been away for far too long,** _it said._ **Come to the heart tree. You must come.**

 _And then all of a sudden she was being rocketed up out of the water and she broke through the surface with a concussion that made no sound but was deafening.  
_

 _The next thing Melara knew, she had landed on cold hard ground with a crash that knocked the breath from her lungs and forced her to lay panting on the shore like a fish out of the water.  
_

 _Only after she had managed to take a few breaths into her lungs did she realize that she was on the opposite shore.  
_

 _When she realized this and looked up she almost reeled back in surprise because in front of her on the rocky shore line was a tree.  
_

 _But this was no ordinary tree.  
_

 _It was only of the biggest trees Melara had ever seen with pearl white branches that seemed to reach to the heavens and blood red leaves that seemed to glisten in the light that was emanating from the wood itself.  
_

 _That was another thing that struck her…she couldn't see behind the tree at the forest that she knew was there because of the glow that was coming from the white bark itself. It was so bright that she had to raise a hand to her forehead to shield herself from it.  
_

 _And then she heard the voice again.  
_

 **Come.**

 _"Who…Who are you?" the brunette asked in a trembling voice._

 _There was a long and thunderous silence in which she shook from the absence of that strange voice._

 _And then all of a sudden it came again, but this time even greater and more terrible.  
_

 **We have waited long…for you.**

 _And then the brightness became even more intense, even more painful until she could look at the tree no longer and do nothing but shield her eyes from the light._

And that was how Melara came awake with a strangled cry in her bed, her sheets tangled about her, eyes staring wildly into the darkness and the sound of the ancient and terrible voice still calling to her.

 **Come.**

Ω

She had never been much for sleeping in and frankly after the night she had had, Melara didn't want to.

The brunette found after she had come awake rather violently in her tent from the all too vivid dream of the night before that sleep proved elusive and tossing and turning came in abundance.

Finally, just before dawn, she gave up on the idea of it for the rest of the early morning hours and rose from her bed.

 _Dawn is the perfect time to collect the dew from the grass before it gets trampled upon by men with feet that are far too big._

Morning dew was a mixture that one put into their potions to promote stress relief and a calmer heart rate. Before going into battle, it might be a good idea to have some of it.

Getting up this early also afforded her the time to go through the forest surrounding the Crag and retrieve any wild shrubs and medicinal flowers and herbs that might have been in the area before anyone else was awake so that she might prepare them.

With this in mind, Melara dressed hurriedly and put on a thick cloak for she could feel the coolness of the morning from inside the tent.

Once this was completed, she took her bag and hurried out of the tent not pausing at all until she was at the edge of the camp and out across the grass and into the forest. She kept her hood up as it was a cool morning and the warmer she could be the better.

Collecting herbs, spices, flowers and shrubs had become something she was used to over the past few years since she had started brewing full time again.

Not only was it calming, it allowed her to think.

And she needed to think.

Something about the dream had told her that she needed to record it and the moment she was awake she had written it down as fast as she could in the book she had brought with her and then had lain back down on the bed feeling strangely drained.

 _Nothing about that dream made sense,_ Melara thought to herself as she bent down to collect the morning dew off a particularly large shrub. She then noted that it was a rather large honey suckle plant which was instrumental in soothing fevers and colds. Once she had collected all the dew that she possibly could into one of the vials from her bag, Melara carefully reached out and pulled out the large shrub by its roots.

She shook the stray earth off it against a nearby tree then wrapped it up before storing it in her bag.

Honey suckle also had a way of soothing upset stomachs and when combined with fresh ginger it was highly effective.

Thankfully she had brought some of the root and it was back in her tent, but she would need to grind it.

As she contemplated the merits of doing that, unbidden the memory of her dream where she had spent most of her time underwater had come back to her and she shivered.

There had been a sense of hopelessness throughout the entire vision and it had only changed when she had somehow been propelled upwards out of the water when the waves had vibrated and that strange, ancient and terrible voice had reached her ears.

She still shuddered when she thought about it, because it seemed as if the voice was reaching right into her heart and compelling her to do things she wasn't aware of and didn't know how to handle.

And then she had been propelled upward out of the water at the frightening speed and deposited on the opposite shore where that great white weirwood tree had appeared to her like some sort of ancient sentinel standing its watch. A light had come from it and it was there that the brightness grew and the voice became so loud that she could hear nothing else but it. It had spoken to her with that voice…that ancient terrible voice that seemed like the source had come from a forge in the ground.

Melara shuddered as she remembered how her whole being had seemed to vibrate with the words spoken, like they had struck some chord deep within her, like a gong that could not be un-rung.

And the words….

Come to the Heart Tree…you must come….

 _Come where?_ the brunette thought distractedly as she absently pulled a handful of dandelions from the ground and set them in her basket. _What Heart Tree?_

She had been raised in the south with the primary religion being that of the Seven. There was a sept on the property of the Twins however Melara had only gone in there when she thought Roslin might be praying. Her sister had spent a good deal of time in the sept in the last few years since the death of their mother but Melara's feet had never touched the cold stones.

She found the concept of Seven deities who had power over a certain aspect of life rather irritating and confusing. If the gods were all powerful, why couldn't one simply have the powers that the others did? Why did there have to be seven?

There was also a godswood in the Twins, but it was much smaller and relegated to a place outside of the keep itself. But it was far more peaceful and secluded. No one really went there but Melara as she enjoyed being outdoors.

As for the old gods of the north…she wasn't sure what to make of their religion either as it was much less formal than the one she had been raised with. None of the old gods had names so they couldn't really be addressed by any sort of title than _the old gods,_ which made praying to them in her mind somewhat difficult.

She had gone through her first life as Pansy with no religion, no prayers and no worship…so why shouldn't she proceed in the same manner in this one as well?

Unfortunately, that no longer seemed to be possible now.

Whatever had been the cause of that dream she had had, it was serious…and it meant something…she was sure of it.

She just didn't know what.

It was one thing to hear a voice that was calling to her but it was an entirely other thing to not know how to obey the voice.

It was frightening and bewildering and exhilarating all at once, and for the first time in her second life, Melara didn't know what to do.

She was still a Slytherin at heart and Slytherins always prided themselves on having a plan, knowing what to do and following through accordingly.

But now…now she hadn't the faintest bloody idea what to do next.

A part of her as she walked through the forest in the early morning light was telling her that the dream was a result of fatigue or something that she ate and to dismiss it entirely as nonsense.

But the vividness of the vision and the fact that she had felt as awake in the dream as she was now prodded her to consider other possibilities.

Frightening possibilities.

Her body had gone on autopilot while she mused and her hands instinctively searched for the herbs, roots, flowers and shrubs as well as berry canes that she knew she would need.

Somehow, belladonna, ginger root, leaves from the aloe plant, wild mushrooms, caterpillars, daisies mint, nettles and lavender ended up in her basket, filling the air around her with a sweet spicy scent that was mildly headache inducing.

Melara glanced up then and noted the position of the sun which was near the tops of the trees. She had wandered a good distance from the Crag by this time she realized with a grimace.

 _I should probably return to the camp,_ the brunette thought absently to herself. _The camp is probably beginning to stir and I want to be back before anyone notices that I have gone. I have enough honey for the day and I have collected a lot of dew. I should be alright to return now._

The air was beginning to warm as Melara headed back and she began to quicken her pace as she knew she wouldn't be able to get back to the camp unnoticed now as she had been when she had left an hour or so earlier.

 _I wonder when King Robb will see it fit to break camp and continue on to the next stage of his campaign,_ she wondered to herself as she came to the edge of the forest. _We shouldn't be here for too much longer as the Lannisters might become aware of our positon if they have not yet already._

In the back of her mind, the dream was still calling but with a massive effort, the brunette managed to push it aside. Premonitions from the past weren't something she could dwell on, especially not now when the future that lay ahead of her was entirely uncertain.

And speaking of that future, the sight that greeted her when she walked back to her tent and found it not unoccupied was also an uncertain one.

Melara had a feeling something was amiss when she walked up the path to her tent which was on the outskirts of the young wolf's camp and saw a man in

Stark colors and heavily armed standing outside of it. He was standing at attention as if his purpose was to guard someone within and Melara frowned upon seeing him.

She hurried up the path to the tent and when he didn't make a move to stop her, she cautiously pushed the flap aside and walked inside only to be greeted with one more piece of an uncertain future.

Lady Catelyn Stark was sitting on the chair in the center of the tent with her hands folded over her enlarged stomach and a pensive expression on her face.

She turned her head at the sound and made to get up when she saw Melara but the brunette waved her back down before giving her a short sharp curtsy.

"Lady Catelyn. What can I do for you?"

The red head pursed her lips slightly as she sat there, hands drumming lightly on the top of her stomach. "I apologize for bothering you so early Lady Talisa."

"Not at all my lady," Melara said as she sat her bag down and pulled up the second chair that was at the end of her small cot. "Is something the matter?"

If possible, the red head looked even more uncomfortable which was a little surprising given that she was the mother of the king and possibly one of the most respected women here in the camp.

"I had hoped so Lady Talisa," she said. "As many of the healers in this camp are men and I wouldn't feel comfortable coming to someone else. As it is, my son already trusts you since the wound you treated him for has healed already, so I hoped that you might be able to help me."

"What is it that you need Lady Catelyn?" Melara asked cautiously, ignoring the fact that she felt somewhat pleased at the mention that Robb Stark trusted her.

"My son has posited to me that you are one of the more effective healers in this camp," the mother of the king went on. "And as such I wondered if there was some way that you would be able to help me."

As she was speaking, she seemed to gesture at her stomach and Melara knew right away what the matter was.

"Is it the morning sickness?" she asked and Catelyn looked somewhat relieved at the direct question. "Yes. This is my sixth child and yet each one has been entirely different. The babe will come in no more than a moon and yet the illness ever morning still persists."

"Ah," Melara replied suddenly feeling like she was on more familiar ground. "Are you experiencing any other symptoms except for nausea?"

"I have been more tired with this pregnancy than the others," Catelyn Stark went on. "But that is understandable given that we are in the midst of fighting a war. But it is a sort of muscle fatigue that almost makes me unable to rise in the mornings."

The brunette's eyes narrowed slightly as she thought fast.

Before Bethany Rosby had died Melara remembered her second mother telling her that there were several fail safes when it came to soothing the nauseous stomach of a pregnant woman as with both Will and Melara she had been very sick.

"One moment my lady," the brunette replied before getting to her feet and going back to the basket she had set down and selecting several shrubs from within. Ginger was a natural relaxant, especially for upset stomachs and frayed nerves so that would do well for the expectant mother. Mint had a soothing smell that aided in indigestion and increase bile secretion which would be helpful as well and honey contained natural sugars that were not only good for oral hygiene but at the same time would raise a person's energy.

Melara also remembered her dour potions master experimenting with the benefits of honey on dragon pox and on lesions caused by curses with some success.

Once she had gathered all of the necessary ingredients as well as a sprig of lavender, Melara turned to the mother of the king. "One moment my lady. I believe I have something that might make you feel better but I need to go outside in order to make it over the fire."

The red head got to her feet by placing a hand on the chair and the other on her stomach. "I will join you. I do not wish to sit alone."

Melara opened her mouth to protest as the woman looked as if she was going to explode at any moment but the determination in Catelyn's eyes made her hesitate.

"Are you certain?" she asked.

"I am."

"Well then at the very least let me bring a chair for you," Melara suggested. "It wouldn't be a good idea for you to sit on a rock."

A small smile decorated Catelyn's features. "No I suppose it wouldn't."

Melara hesitated for a moment before going over and offering the expecting mother her arm so that they might walk together.

Catelyn hesitated before taking it and the brunette could tell that she didn't wish to appear weak, but at the moment didn't have any other choice.

The moment the two women emerged from the tent the guard who had been standing outside jumped to attention and made to follow them, but Catelyn waved him off.

"At ease Ser," she said somewhat tiredly. "I am not going far."

The knight frowned and made to protest. "My lady in your condition – "

Melara turned and narrowed her eyes at him. "I am certain lady Catelyn is aware of her own condition thank you very much. She did come to me did she not? We are going to sit here by the fire while I make something to aid her ladyship in her "condition" as you so ardently put it. If you truly wish to help than you will go back inside the tent and bring back a chair for Lady Catelyn to sit on. Then you will stay _out_ of my way."

To her quiet surprise, he did as she asked and the brunette led the red head over to the small fire pit where her pot was waiting.

The moment the guard returned and left them alone, Melara helped Lord Stark's widow into the chair and then seated herself on a rock.

She was glad that this particular potion didn't require water as the morning dew she had collected would serve as liquidation.

And speaking of the morning, as the sun rose higher in the sky above the camp, Melara could see more and more people milling about the camp, men leading horses two and fro, knights in armor walking by and shorter squires dashing about.

She was glad she had been put at the edge of the camp so that there was a little more quiet as opposed to being in the heart of the camp and seeing and hearing everything as the king no doubt was.

The moment the morning dew water had heated to a comfortable warmth, Melara tossed in the ginger root and stirred it absently with a spoon, watching as the skin of it began to peel off and become like flakes in the water. A spicy scent filled the air which was oddly soothing after the women had become used to the sharp smell.

"What is that?" Lady Catelyn asked and Melara gave her a small smile. "It is ginger root my lady. Ginger is a natural relaxant which soothes an upset stomach."

A moment later when the ginger had become sufficiently flakey and had separated entirely, Melara tossed in some aloe vera leaves and the sprig of lavender.

"And those?" the older woman asked with some interest.

Melara pointed to the first plant she had tossed in the pot as both leaned over it. "Those are the leaves of the aloe plant which makes it easier for your body to expunge infections and makes it more difficult for you to become sick. In addition to being good for your skin, aloe can also reduce swelling from a number of ailments, for example your ankles if you are walking around all day and are in fact expecting a child."

Catelyn Stark looked at her for a long moment and Melara was surprised to see a smile beginning to form on her face.

"Goodness you certainly know your craft don't you?" she asked and Melara gave her a small grim smile. "Few vocations are open to women my lady. If you want to be good at something, you had best hone your craft as much as you can so that no one will have reason to doubt you."

"Very true," the red head said softly as Melara continued tossing ingredients into the potion. "You sound a bit like my daughter Arya. In a way the two of you resemble each other in personality."

 _First Robb now his mother,_ Melara thought to herself. _Although I suppose they're not entirely wrong. I have met Arya Stark after all, I wonder if that's what I was like when Ben was teaching me how to use a sword._

"She was much harder to deal with than her sister," Catelyn went on. "But now I wish I had her spirit. I don't know how she is or how her sister is."

Melara remembered seeing Sansa from afar when she had gone to the capital a few weeks ago and winced.

She had been so close. At the time she had only been there to gather intelligence on Lannister troop movements, but instead she had learned that Arya Stark had escaped the capital and that the queen was even more of an idiot that she had thought Catelyn Stark was.

But here Melara didn't see a woman who was a fool. She saw a mother who missed her children desperately and who was trying to deal with a pregnancy in the midst of a war. She was trying to cope with the grief after the execution of her husband and help her son win a war that no one should have to fight.

In that instant the brunette felt a stab of pity for her. Despite the fact that she had kidnapped Tyrion Lannister, she couldn't have known that everything that had happened would happen. If she did, Melara doubted very much that Catelyn Stark would have taken the Imp as a hostage to the Vale.

 _If only the world weren't so fucked up,_ she thought grimly to herself. _But it is. It's the kind of world that we live in where good men are executed without a trial, girls are kept as hostages and people are forced to fight a war that they shouldn't have had to fight._

Melara glanced back at the bubbling pot and pursed her lips for a moment before adding the moonstones and the honey.

It was almost ready.

The potion had since changed to a golden tinged color, though Melara could still see aloe leaves and fragments of the lavender and mint stems in the mixture.

The scent of mint and honey filled the air causing both the younger and older woman to exhale in contentment.

"It does smell nice," Lady Catelyn replied and Melara nodded. "The mint helps. If it was simply a potion made from ginger root, it might help your nausea, but it would taste awful and would be difficult to swallow. The honey is added as a softener to take away the sharp taste of the ginger and make it more palatable."

"Good," the older woman replied. "I can barely keep any food down as it is. The last thing that I need is to try and consume something that tastes bad."

"Hopefully the lack of nausea will cause your appetite to return," Melara commented.

She glanced at the mixture one more time and nodded to herself when she realized it was ready to serve.

The brunette reached into the basket for the small jar she had slipped in among the shrubs and took up the long spoon before pouring the mixture into it and handing it over to the red headed woman. "Try this."

The mother of the king eyed it warily at first and took a cautious sniff. After a moment she must have decided it was worth a try and carefully raised the small jar to her lips.

Melara carefully took the pot off the fire and set it on the ground so that she would be able to pour the rest of it into jars later.

It was then that the sound of approaching feet caused her to look up. As soon as she did so, she gave a quiet snort.

The young wolf and his friend, the Greyjoy boy were making their way towards her tent with a small retinue of about five guards following.

It appeared as if the king had been searching for his mother for when he saw her, his eyes brightened slightly.

Then his eyes saw her and they darkened somewhat causing her to frown. _He certainly gets around doesn't he?_

"Mother," the young wolf called as soon as he had come close. "I had been looking for you."

"And here I am," the older woman groused as she took another sip of the potion Melara had made her.

The king paused at the edge of the fire and gave Melara a long look. "Lady Talisa."

She nodded at him. "Your grace."

The brunette ignored the rather close perusal that the king's friend Theon Greyjoy was sending her and carefully chose not to roll her eyes. Robb didn't know her well enough yet to be able to understand her form of sarcasm.

"I have received information from the Stormlands mother," the king went on somewhat quietly and Melara got up to go to her tent so she might retrieve some more jars to bottle the potion.

"You have?" the king's mother asked as the brunette walked away.

"Aye. Renly Baratheon is dead, murdered by his brother Stannis apparently."

At that Melara almost came to a screeching halt in mid-stride. Thankfully she controlled herself and kept going but her mind was whirling with a million thoughts. Kin slaying was a grave sin in this world. It carried the same stigmatization in the magical world as well because many of the pureblood lines were beginning to die out and she and her brother Trystan were the only new generation born to Callum Parkinson who had married his cousin Gwen at the behest of their parents. Because there were less and less purebloods being born and more being born who were Squibs, kin slaying was seen as a grave sin. There was a reason that Narcissa Malfoy had been so desperate to protect her son in the war. Draco was the only son born to the Malfoys between Narcissa and Lucius and if he were to die, the Malfoy line would end.

But here…for Stannis to have done what he did would mean that he would have a reputation for the rest of his life as being a kin slayer, an untrustworthy man and someone to regard with suspicion.

 _Someone like that shouldn't sit on the Iron Throne,_ Melara thought to herself fiercely.

She snatched up the bag which contained her jars and strode back to the campfire where Lady Stark was still talking with the king.

"He has now assumed command of Renly's army and is marching towards the capital as we speak," Robb was saying. "I have it on good authority that he is traveling by ship to the capital. He may intend to attack by sea."

"And the Tyrells?" Catelyn asked.

"I am of the understanding that Loras Tyrell and his sister Margaery have returned to Highgarden with the Tyrell army."

Their talking ceased as Melara sat back down across from the fire and began calmly spooning the mixture into the jars.

It was in that moment that she noted Lady Stark take a last sip from the jar the brunette had given her and exhaled deeply. "Thank you Lady Talisa."

The daughter of Walder Frey glanced up from her task and gave the red head a small grim smile. "It worked then?"

"It did," the expectant mother replied. "Is there any way you would be able to provide me with more?"

"What did lady Talisa give you mother?" the king questioned and Melara smiled privately to herself.

"A potion to help with the increasing illness I have been feeling my son," Catelyn replied. "Lady Talisa was kind enough to make it for me and it has worked wonders."

"Indeed?" the king asked turning a deep blue eye on the brunette. "Then you have our thanks Lady Talisa."

The brunette said nothing but inclined her head to him before turning back to the older woman and handing her some of the small jars she had stoppered. "I would recommend you have one every morning my lady. The ginger root inside the mixture will counter any nausea you might be feeling."

"Have you been ill mother?" the young wolf asked and Melara suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "With all due respect your grace, your lady mother is pregnant in a warzone and her time is fast approaching. I would be surprised if she wasn't ill."

Robb blinked as if taken aback by the blunt statement, but Melara couldn't bring herself to care. While she had never been pregnant herself, she fully understood and appreciated the discomfort one must feel going through it. She had been Bethany Rosby's fifth child couldn't imagine what the woman must have gone through to bring six of Walder Frey's children into the world.

 _That man has enough seed to fill an ocean,_ Melara thought to herself in disgust.

The young king's face turned grim a moment later and the brunette turned back to the red head who appeared as if she were trying not to smile. "As I was saying my lady, ensure to have one every morning when you awaken as the ginger will counter any nausea you might feel throughout the day."

Lady Catelyn nodded and started to get to her feet. Robb stepped forward to help her but Melara was faster and was at the woman's side in an instant.

Once the red head was on her feet, the brunette turned her over to her son who in turn gestured for one of his men to come forward.

"Ser Martyn, please ensure that my mother gets back to her tent safely," the young king said before turning back to Melara.

"I am not an invalid Robb," Catelyn Stark muttered and Melara snorted quietly to herself.

The young king gave his mother an almost long suffering look. "No mother, but you are also carrying a child, father's last child and I would be lax in my responsibilities to you and to him if I did not see you safe. Theon would you go with her?"

"Alright," the young man with the brown hair said before giving Melara another long look. It was a look mixed with suspicion and what appeared to be lust although she couldn't be sure.

Once the group had turned and walked off, Melara immediately bent down and picked up the empty pot and spoon she had been using before she realized that Robb was still standing there.

She frowned at him. "Was there something you needed your grace?"

He looked at her for a long moment with his hands folded behind his back. "What did my mother come to you for Lady Talisa?"

The brunette suppressed the urge to roll her eyes again. "I had thought we had already discussed this your grace. She has been experiencing nausea in the mornings and she came to me seeking out some sort of remedy."

The young wolf was quiet for a long moment and Melara continued putting the bottles she hadn't used back into her basket.

After a time she looked up again and was surprised to see a look of discomfort on his handsome face.

He was more Tully than Stark in appearance from what she could see but there was also the northern features on his face as well. She had seen Eddard Stark from a distance at the Hand's Tourney some months and noted the resemblance in his cheeks, the shape of his forehead and his lips.

Melara blinked then and cursed at herself inwardly for noticing such a small detail as that before going back to her work with the same cool efficiency with which she performed every task after the war. She was about to continue speaking when Robb Stark beat her to it.

"You disapprove."

Melara frowned and glanced up from the fire where she had knelt after she had put it out to scatter the ashes. "I beg your pardon?"

"You have the same look on my face as my sister Sansa does sometimes," the king continued and this time her frown was one of bewilderment. "I am afraid I don't understand."

To her surprise, Robb Stark seated himself in the chair that his mother had vacated only moments earlier and folded his hands in his lap. He was wearing his customary furs and the armor underneath it and Melara grimaced at the already increasing heat he must be feeling. They were in the Westerlands so it was still cool but not as cool as the Riverlands.

Melara preferred the coolness of the land where she had lived her second life. It was replete with forests and rushing rivers and streams and the fresh breezes that lifted her hair from her forehead and shoulders after a walk in the forests outside the Twins were her delight.

She didn't realize until now how much she missed her home.

Not the Twins per se but the area around it.

"My mother is a stubborn woman Lady Talisa," Robb Stark continued and Melara blinked when she realized she hadn't been paying attention. "I was not informed of her pregnancy until after we had liberated Riverrun and to this day I do not know why. The last time she saw my father was one month before he was arrested for treason and two months before he was executed by that little shit Joffrey. I don't know why she chose not to tell me and by the time she did, I insisted that she return to Riverrun. Naturally she used the excuse that there were bandits on the road and that she would be safer with my army. I was uneasy about it but I agreed."

Melara cocked her head to one side and looked at him with a keen eye. "Why do you feel the need to justify your actions to me your grace? You are a king, a king does not have to define himself to anyone."

He looked up at her then, his eyes blazing with a strange blue fire she had never seen before. "Perhaps it is because I wish to ensure that by my words and actions, I as king never become like the one who sits on the Iron Throne and claims to have a right to it."

Melara's eyes narrowed at him. "An honorable sentiment. However your fear at becoming the thing you fear need not preclude your ability to be efficient."

His narrowed eyes mirrored hers. "Your meaning?"

Melara carefully placed the pot to one side and folded her hands in her lap as she looked at him. "From where I sit, I can see you are an honorable man your grace. You want justice and peace, also revenge but for a righteous cause. Yet the path to those things sometimes cannot come without you doing what is necessary to ensure it."

Robb eyed her warily. "I am afraid I do not understand."

Melara chuckled softly. "You call yourself a king and yet you wear no crown, sit upon no throne and are currently not in your own keep."

She raised her hand to forestall the words she knew were coming. "Peace, I meant no offense. But a king is as much of a leader in peace as he is in war.

Suppose I put this question to you. What would your lord father have done in order to ensure peace? That is what he wanted is it not?"

Robb's face had hardened. "Anything. And he did."

"Aye he did," Melara said. "And it cost him dearly. I simply wish to ensure that _you_ ensure you do not suffer the same fate that he did."

She knew she was on thin ice when the eyes of the king blazed with anger, but she steadily gazed into the fiery blue orbs with the calm jade ones of her own.

"You presume much my lady," Robb Stark replied, his tone tight.

She shook her head, an easy smile on her face. "No your grace, I simply ask the questions that no one else will. How far are you willing to go in order to ensure peace? Are you willing to sit on the Iron Throne? Because someone must. I believe we discussed this some weeks ago at Oxcross. You posited to me that you had no desire to sit on the Iron Throne. Then who will? Will it be someone of your choosing? Or will it be someone who comes to the throne by right of conquest like Robert Baratheon did or the Targaryens three centuries before him? These are the choices you must make when you are faced with the possibility of power."

"So what would you suggest I do?" the young man asked tightly. "Sit on the Iron Throne myself?"

Melara kept her gaze steady with his for a long moment and his understanding that this was exactly what she thought he should do was not long in coming.

His eyes widened slightly and his eyebrows rose. "Is this a clever jape my lady?"

Melara leaned back on her seat, a lazy smile on her face. "Not at all your grace. I have been told I have a sarcastic personality but in this case I am being utterly serious. If you are so adamant about justice being done, then see it done yourself and ensure that no future generations will have to fight a similar war because a sadistic little shit sat on the throne making orders that he is too much of a coward to carry out himself."

The wolf king bristled slightly. "My father died for that throne. I have no wish to follow his example."

Melara shrugged slightly. "Then don't. Learn from his mistakes and be careful with who you trust. In order to be a king, one must be as shrewd as a serpent. Don't lose track of who you are your grace. But don't make apologies for doing what needs to be done."

His gaze became so intense then that she began to feel slightly uncomfortable but Melara knew she couldn't let it show.

Slytherins didn't show any weakness.

"And who would you say that I am lady Talisa?"

The beautiful brunette paused and looked him over for a long time. "You are a good and honorable man your grace. But I would merely caution you to not let your honor cost you dearly like it did your father."

Ω

Later that evening, Melara was sitting in her tent re reading some of the notes she had made about her dream the night before and thinking back on the events of the day.

Not long after she had said her rather blunt words to Robb Stark, the two had parted and she had not seen him for the rest of the day.

While Melara knew what she had said was harsh, the words needed to be said. She possessed blunt forced honesty along with cunning and knowing when to say the right thing as well as what to say was all part of the game.

In a way growing up in Slytherin house had prepared her for the game of thrones.

She just hoped she would play it well when she and the King in the North were wed.

Gods…she still needed to tell him the truth about herself as well.

 _You cannot become so caught up in being Lady Talisa that you lose track of Melara Frey…or Pansy Parkinson for that matter. Your past and your future demands that you be accountable._

And speaking of accountability, the former Pansy knew a thing or two about keeping ones debts and returning them in full.

Lannisters weren't the only ones who knew a thing or two about paying back what was owed.

And she was beginning to realize the more time she spent with Robb and Catelyn Stark that she would be a part of their family soon. And any member of their family would be a member of her family too.

It threw into sharp relief that Robb's family was scattered about the Seven Kingdoms. His sister was a hostage in the capital, his other sister was gods knew where, his two brothers were holding Winterfell in the north and he and his mother were here. Said mother was about to have a child.

 _My brothers aren't home with my sister and I…but at least I know where they are and I can visit them. Magic does make that easier. But Robb has no magic, he is a muggle and has to go about getting his family back in the Muggle way. And many more are going to die before that happens. But perhaps there is a way that I can save lives and get his sister back at the same time. I don't know where Arya is…but maybe I can help Sansa Stark._

The more she thought about it, the more the idea began to take shape in her mind and she smiled at the thought.

Yes…the war needed to be sped along and if Sansa Stark was returned to her brother, then the Starks would finally have leverage above the Lannisters.

Jaime Lannister was still a prisoner in Robb Stark's camp and if the Lannisters had nothing to bargain with for the Kingslayer's life…well perhaps the war would turn in their favor.

In one of Wyn's letters to her, he had dictated after the battle of Whispering Wood that before they had captured the Kingslayer, he had slain two of Lord Karstark's sons. She hadn't seen the man in the camp herself but she had a feeling that he would want revenge. If someone had slain two of her brothers she would damn well want revenge too.

If Sansa Stark was returned than they might not have any further use for Jaime Lannister.

Melara hesitated on that thought and considered it carefully for a moment.

 _One thing about being a Slytherin was to never draw your hand out further than you could bring it back. Killing the Kingslayer will take some more careful consideration. But in the meantime…there is still something I can do._

Once she had worked through her plan in her own mind, Melara got to her feet and pulled a cloak over her shoulders before taking up the two long knives that Benfrey had given her on her fourteenth name day. They were a little shorter than bastard blades so they could not be called true swords, but they would do in a pinch.

When this was completed, Melara strapped both blades to a belt around her waist and took a deep breath.

It was time to retrieve Sansa Stark…and end this war.

Ω

 **I apologize for the delay in updates everyone. I have just moved into a new house and have not been able to have access to internet. So here I am in the local library updating this chapter of Serpent Queen. I should have other chapters from my other stories up soon so do not fret. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the chapter and don't forget to review!**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Even though it had been some weeks since she had seen it last, the capital was as familiar to Melara as if she had been there only any hour earlier. The air of the place was the same as when she had seen it last, as was the stench. Even as she stood in the gardens of the keep where she had appeared the smell of sour milk and the sharp scent of human waste as it made its way down to the bay was near overpowering.

 _Seven hells would it really bother anyone so much if there was proper drainage in this bloody city?_ The brunette thought to herself. _I hate the Twins but at least it smells nicer there._

After a moment she brushed it off however and continued on her trek through the gardens. _Now to find Sansa Stark and get the bloody hell out of here. I don't think the new boy king would have her any place but near his chambers seeing as how she is a conquest of war. So perhaps I should begin there first._

The moment Melara made her way out of the gardens and into the cool quiet of the keep, the stench cut off and she breathed a sigh of relief before turning around so she might get her bearings.

Despite the fact that she had only been there a few months earlier, the keep was still large enough that its hallways all looked the same at times.

 _I was staying near the Tower of the Hand and it is near there where I ran into Arya Stark the first time. I wonder where the child is right now. There are only a few people who know that she escaped but that is about become common knowledge when I bring Sansa Stark back._

She pulled the hood of her cloak more firmly over her head as she strode down the halls of the keep and up several flights of stairs.

Melara didn't go near the throne room as that place had a history all its own and she didn't want to become caught up in it.

As she walked she began to muse to herself. No one could see her or hear her as she had muffled her footsteps so she felt at ease enough to not race.

 _I wonder how Robb and his mother will react to the knowledge that there is only one Stark in the capital. Joffrey Baratheon and his mother really are idiots. She for not being able to control her son and he for cutting the head off of the Warden of the North as some sort of asinine show of strength. I wonder if he truly thought that war would be the cause of his actions or if he really is just too mad to care. I don't know whether or not the rumors concerning the queen and Jaime Lannister are true, but something tells me that all of the royal children look far more lion than stag._

She continued on her path keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of where Sansa Stark's chambers might be and then decided she might as well check the tower of the Hand as it was where the Starks were staying before this entire mess had occurred. It was certainly plausible that Lord Stark's eldest daughter was still being held there.

As she neared the tower, Melara was pleased to see that her hunch had been correct when she saw two Lannister guards in red and gold standing at the top of the stairs outside the door leading to the inner rooms of the tower. The symbol of the lion was emblazoned on their chests along with the red plumes on their helmets.

Even though she was disguised and no one could hear her, Melara was barely able to stifle a laugh. _Because that isn't conspicuous at all._

She calmly walked up to the stair case and looked up it at the guards standing on top, wanting to scoff at their ostentatious uniforms. _Lannisters rule this place now. Do you really need to have symbols emblazoned on your chests telling everyone who you serve? There is a war going on and rationing has begun in earnest in the capital. People are unhappy enough with the Lannisters as it is. Do you need to give anyone a reason to attack you?_

Melara sighed to herself, knowing it was not her concern but thinking it was the sort of thing many a Gryffindor would do. But again, what the Lannisters did with the dress of their soldiers was not her concern. She was simply here to retrieve a stray wolf.

The brunette lifted her skirts and climbed the stairs quickly, taking them almost two at a time as the urgency of what she was here to do came upon her again. The guards might not notice her but she had a feeling it wouldn't be long before they noticed that Sansa Stark was missing and then the entire capital would be put on notice.

She shrugged. _Again, what that is not my problem._

When Melara had come close to the guards and stared into their eyes that were as unseeing of her as they were of the wind around them, she got to work and removed the silencing charm from herself.

 _"Imperio."_

The effects were instantaneous and a glazed look came over both of their eyes, giving the brunette a small smile. She leaned closer so they might hear her again. "You will open the door and then you will shut it."

Like robots they turned to do her bidding and once the door was open, Melara stepped inside waiting until they had shut it behind her.

The moment they had done so, she pulled her hood off of her head and released the charm disguising her. She felt her strength give a little from the effort of keeping up the magic but without her wand to focus her magic, it was harder to cast spells.

There didn't appear to be any guards around anyway, but she was prepared to put the spell back on her. Besides if she saw guards, she could stun them before anything happened.

However that wasn't always a good idea because if she did that, they might clatter to the floor and make a lot of noise alerting someone to the fact that something was wrong.

So even though it was annoying, Melara decided not using the charm was a mistake and placed it back about herself.

 _I am glad that apparating can be done without the use of a wand,_ she thought. _If I have to use a lot of magic the odds are I won't have a lot of energy after all this is over._

With that she strode down the long hallway to the stairs at the other end of the tower and began to climb them. As far as Melara knew, Sansa Stark was the only person staying in the tower at the moment and that meant that the tower was virtually empty.

 _What a lonely place to be held a prisoner. At least in the Red Keep there would be people around._

And then she remembered seeing the boy king from a distance when she had been at the tourney a few months earlier and cringed. _On second thought, maybe it is better to be as far away from the keep as possible._

When Melara had climbed to the top of the stairs she found herself faced with a long hallway in which there were chambers on either side. The doors were all shut and the place was utterly silent. There were no candles burning in the windows and there was nothing but a dim grey light coming from the moon and stars outside to illuminate the entire corridor. It was very bleak and very dull causing Melara to grimace slightly. She had never liked the keep very much when she had been here in the past, but since when had it become this gloomy and depressing?

 _We're in the midst of a war you idiot, would you like it if everything was sunshine and rainbows so you were distracted?_

It was then that she noticed further down the hall one more Lannister guard stationed outside of one of the chamber doors on the left hand side of the corridor. He was standing erect with his feet shoulder width apart and his hands clasped in front of him.

 _Bingo._

Melara quickly strode towards him not bothering to hide the sound of her footsteps as this soldier needed to hear what she was going to say to him.

Sure enough, the brunette could see his eyes darting about underneath his helm. He was no doubt wondering what on earth was making the sound because he couldn't see her.

That was the last thing he did before Melara walked up to him and looked right into his eyes. _"Imperio."_

Instantly his eyes glazed over and she knew he was now as senile as a dog that was only a few hours old.

She leaned closer so she might whisper into his ear. "You will let me in and you will shut the door behind me. But you will announce me first and then you will leave us alone."

Mechanically the guard turned and grasped hold of the door handle. Melara quickly let go of the charm and revealed herself, knowing it wouldn't make a difference and that it would completely unnerve Sansa if she were to see the guard open the door with no one there and she were to randomly appear.

The girl would know of her magic soon enough.

Sure enough the moment she had released the charm on herself and the guard had opened the door, she could see the form of a young woman sitting by the fire with her embroidery on her lap. The bed across the room was unmade and looked as if it had not been slept in all day and there were candles burning through the room.

The girl was staring at her sewing with unseeing eyes and it was only when the guard who was still under the effects of the imperious curse spoke that she looked up.

"A visitor for you Lady Sansa," the guard said robotically while Melara focused solely on the auburn haired girl in front of her.

 _I can see that both she and her brother take after the Tully rather than the Stark side in looks._

Sansa had deep blue eyes just like Robb but her hair was far more scarlet than his was. Robb's hair appeared almost black with some red tones in it while Sansa's hair was as flame red as a blaze. It appeared almost blood red in the light of the fire while her skin appeared almost ghostly pale.

When she looked up, those deep blue eyes appeared watery and Melara realized with a grimace that she was trying to hold back tears. At the sight of the unfamiliar brunette however, the red head quickly schooled her features.

Melara was a little impressed with how fast she could become an unreadable book.

She turned back to the guard who still had not shut the door and fixed him with a glare. "That will be all, thank you ser."

"My lady," he said in the same monotone answer he had used with her outside and shut the door before returning to his post.

Melara turned back to the red head who had set her sewing aside and was looking at her with an unreadable expression but she felt it contained a slight fear. "Who are you?"

Melara raised an eyebrow as she looked the girl over. Time in the capital had not been good to her it seemed. While her hair was done in the southern style and her dress was elaborate like that of a court lady, there were faint circles beneath her eyes and the dress seemed to droop on her form. Her shoulders were slightly hunched and she appeared small in the chair in which she was sitting.

 _Gods I need to get her out of here and get some food in her. An explanation would be helpful first though._

"Who am I?" Melara asked slowly. "I am someone who's come a long way looking for you."

"Who would be looking for me?" Sansa asked. "I'm the daughter of a traitor. I'm not important enough for anyone to notice."

One look in her eyes and Melara knew that the girl didn't believe a word she was saying. It was simply something she had no doubt trained herself to say in order to survive in this place.

Melara didn't blame her. Sansa Stark was a political prisoner and there would be no one here who would speak for her. If she spoke up for herself she would be treated even more harshly than she already was no doubt.

"Come now," the brunette said sitting down in the chair opposite Sansa's and pushing back her hood so that her long black curls fell free. "You don't believe that and neither do I. And to answer a question that is no doubt coming, no I am not a servant of the Lannisters."  
From the wary look Sansa was giving her, the brunette had a feeling that that question had been on her mind. "Who are you?"  
Melara had wondered for a long time if she should tell Sansa the truth and then had decided it would probably be better to. Robb didn't know the truth but he would soon enough and if she told Sansa her lie now it would lead to another complex situation that she didn't really want to deal with. She's already lied to two Starks, she wasn't planning on hiding the truth from a third. It didn't even make sense to at this point really.

"My name is Melara Frey," she said and watched Sansa's eyes went wide and her jaw slackened.

"But what is a Frey doing in the capital?" she asked in a low whisper. "Aren't the Freys supposed to be fighting against the Lannisters?"

"After your brother liberated Riverrun and my father pledged him his loyalty, yes they are," Melara put in. "That is sort of why I am here."

Sansa looked at her for a long time, obviously confused and then something that looked suspiciously like hope entered her eyes. "Did Robb send you? And if that were true how did you even get in here? I'm never allowed to see someone unless one of the royal family is with me. You didn't pose as a servant did you?"

Melara chuckled. "No, but that might have been a good idea. But it was something I didn't need to do. I have my own ways of getting past the guards. As to the question of whether or not your brother sent me…yes and no."

"I don't understand," Sansa said in a small voice.

Melara sighed. "No I don't suppose you do. It's a long story and one I will be happy to tell you when we are both away from here."

Sansa glanced at the door and sighed, the hope in her eyes dying. "There's no way out of here. I would have tried one if I had been able to find it."

"Oh there's a way out," Melara said surprising the Stark. "But you wouldn't have known about it unless the right person had shown it to you."

She could tell she was making very little sense to her betrothed's sister so she figured that she might have to further explain some things.

"Your brother is currently fighting his war in the Westerlands," she said in a low voice. "They had just taken the Crag when I left to come and get you and their end goal is to capture the seat of Casterly Rock that way the Lannisters have no stronghold left to return to. Harrenhal is no great defensible place and it is worth little to Tywin Lannister when compared to the lions' ancestral seat."

"Do you think they will take it?" Sansa asked.

"I hope so," Melara muttered. "I have a feeling that the fate of this war depends on it. But at the moment, that is not important. You getting out of here is."

"How am I going to do that?"

"Well," Melara said "if there is a way in, than there is a way out and I have that way."

She could tell Sansa wanted to hope but was afraid to. "Did you come here alone?"

"I did."

"But…But you're a woman and it would have taken weeks to get here. How did you not run into bandits on the road? I've heard stories of what they do to women. Awful stories."

"I have to," Melara said. "But in this case it took far less time for me to get here than you might think. And it will take far less time to leave that you might think too."

"Do you know my brother?" Sansa asked.

"I do," Melara nodded.

"How? Women aren't supposed to be in war," Sansa said as if this was something she had been told since birth. "Battles are men's work."

 _I'll need to change her mindset if she's going to be my good sister,_ Melara thought to herself. _I have no intention of letting her sit back and think that its only men who can defend her. No woman should be like that awful Muggle princess Cinderella who waits for someone to come and rescue her._

"That's not entirely true," she said slowly. "Because your mother is there as well."

Sansa's breath caught and her eyes filled with tears once more. "My mother and Robb are together?"

"They are and they are very eager to get you and your sister back and take revenge on the Lannisters. If the war goes the way I hope it will than perhaps they will get exactly that. I can't make it so that the war never happened but I can bring you back to them and end your time in the capital once and for all."

Sansa's eyes had grown huge and tears were beginning to spill down her cheeks. She seemed very fragile and in that moment she reminded Melara a good deal of Roslin and she felt her protective instincts kick in.

 _They won't hurt her anymore, not if I have anything to say about it._

"You can do that?" she asked.

"I can."

"But how? I've dreamed of rescue and leaving this place ever since my father….my father…." She had to stop there as tears were beginning to spill like rivers down her cheeks.

Melara sighed and reached out to take her hand. "I can't bring your father back. But I can bring you and your sister back to your brother and your mother."

"My sister isn't here," Sansa whispered in a voice so low that Melara barely heard her. "She escaped in the chaos when my father was arrested. I don't know where she is."

Of course Melara already knew this but for the moment she decided not to make that public. "That complicates things then. You will have to tell your brother when we return."

"Why?" Sansa asked dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief and gripping Melara's hand with her free one. "Why would you do that? Help me in this way?"

"Like I said it's a long story," Melara said. "But I can tell you some of it now. The long and short of it is, I know your brother and I am doing this not only for you but for him also."

"Why?"

"Because I am supposed to marry your brother."

"What?" Sansa asked in stunned whisper.

Melara chuckled. "That was my reaction too when I learned the news. When your brother's army was marching to Riverrun to liberate it from the Lannisters he had to use the bridge at the Twins in order to cross the river. My father wanted something in return from him. And that something turned out to be a marriage contract for me. Your brother and I are set to marry upon the conclusion of the war."

"I see," Sansa said although she looked as if she were in a daze. "And that's how you know my brother."

"Well," the brunette said. "The truth is my brothers are in your brother's army, all four of them and I was concerned for their wellbeing so I told my father I would be staying with my good sister and I went after them and posed as a healer in your brother's army. That's how he knows me."

"Seven hells," Sansa muttered and then blinked at herself causing Melara to laugh. "So my brother doesn't know you are here at all."

"He has no idea."

"And how do you plan for us to escape?" Sansa asked. "There are guards blocking almost ever entrance to this place."

"They will not even see us," Melara said. "As far as any of them are concerned no one came in and no one left and when someone sends for you in the morning we will have been gone for hours."

She didn't think it was possible for Sansa's eyes to become any bigger but she was wrong. The girl opened her mouth but Melara cut her off. "I'll explain what I am about to do to help us escape later. But right now it is more important that we escape so I can. Do you have anything you want to bring with you?"

Sansa quickly looked about the room and then hurriedly got to her feet. "Everything I have the Lannisters gave me and I don't want to bring anything of theirs from here."

Just then her eyes caught sight of something and she blinked hard as if to ward off tears. "But there is one thing."

She hurried over to the bed on the other side of the room and dug into the top drawer of the table beside it.

A moment later, she pulled out a strange looking doll that looked out of place in the rich red and gold hangings of the room.

"Is that all?" Melara asked.

Sansa nodded clutching the doll in her arms. "I don't want anything else."

"Good," Melara said nodding sharply. "Then take my hand and for the love of all the gods do not let go."

"What are you going to do?" Sansa asked warily but she took the brunette's hand nevertheless.

"Something unpleasant," Melara muttered and then before Sansa could ask anymore questions, she gripped her hand tight and spun on her heel, apparating out of the tower with Sansa in tow with a crack.

When one of the servants would come to retrieve Sansa in the morning they would both be shocked and bewildered by her disappearance from a locked room that was heavily guard in an isolated tower.

Sansa Stark would not set foot in the capital for a long time to come.

Ω

Sansa and Melara reappeared in the forest grove outside of the Crag a second later with the darkness surrounding them like a cloak.

She had to steady the Stark girl who immediately stumbled upon their arrival in the woods and almost fell. The brunette led the red head over to a nearby rock so she might sit and catch her breath and hopefully ward off any nausea she might have as a result of the trip.

"Are you alright?" she asked after a few moments.

Sansa didn't answer, keeping one hand on her stomach and the other on her head as if she were suffering from the effects of a headache.

"What…What was that?" she stammered and Melara gave her a grim smile. "That was what I used to get us out of the Tower of the Hand. Look around you."

Finally Sansa was able to bring herself to look up and Melara watched in amusement as she looked at the dark woods around her that were so unfamiliar. "Where are we?"

"We are just outside of the Crag, where your brother's army is encamped," Melara said calmly. "In fact I am surprised that some of the lights aren't lit."

"But…But how?"

"Magic," Melara replied and nearly winced when she saw the wary look on Sansa's face return. "Oh for the love of the gods don't look at me like that. Why is magic something that everyone thinks of as taboo? It's those bloody septons isn't it? They've poisoned anyone from having an original thought that wasn't put there by the Seven. What I wouldn't give to blow up that thrice damned sept and all the other ones in the country to prevent their poison from spreading."

"You don't believe in the Seven?" Sansa asked absently. "But you're from the south."

"So?" Melara asked somewhat bitingly. "I don't believe in any gods. Religion is simply a tool for people to gain power over the weak and the helpless."

Sansa took another deep breath and looked up at her. "So you're…a witch then? Does my brother know?"

Melara really did grimace this time. "No he doesn't know. But I need to tell him soon. And I would prefer if we didn't use the word witch. I'm no follower of the Red God whose servants burn others with fire. They also burn others with magic hoping to take their powers, gods no, that's not who I am."

"Then where did the magic come from?" Sansa asked.

"I was born with it," Melara shrugged. "I'm of the mind that everyone has the ability to practice it, but few realize it so they don't."

"Do you know anyone else who was born with…magic?" Sansa asked as if the word were a foreign food on her tongue.

"No," Melara replied. "But that doesn't mean that there aren't others. I'm just someone who has the ability to do it."

"I don't know a lot about magic," Sansa said slowly. "But its always been a word associated with Lord of Light who's worshipped in Essos. Its always meant bad things."

"Always?" Melara asked raising an eyebrow. "Do you think that the Wall that is to the north of Winterfell and has been around for thousands of years was constructed by hand? You don't think something like that was built with the help of magic?"

She could see from the widening of Sansa's eyes that it was something she had never considered before. "But how is that possible?"

Melara shrugged. "I don't know. But I think it's safe to say that not all magic is bad. After all the Wall has protected the rest of the realm for millennium and I am convinced it was the work of magic."

"I thought it was giants," Sansa asked.

"And how do you propose the giants came to be?" Melara countered. "If they do exist it is only north of the wall and why is it that there are no giants south of the wall if they are simply normal people?"

"You think they were magic as well?" Sansa asked.

"I think the world is far bigger than you think is it and that not all things you have been told are good are so and vice versa."

"Well," Sansa said slowly getting to her feet. "For what it's worth, I don't think you're bad. You came for me when no one else did and you got me out of the keep."

"I came for you when no one else _could,_ " Melara corrected. "Don't make the mistake in thinking that your brother wouldn't have marched into the keep and rescued you if he was able. An entire Lannister army stood between him and you."

Sansa cast her eyes downward and Melara was certain she could see tears forming again. "I know. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Melara replied. "You've suffered a lot. It would be surprising if you weren't a little bitter from it. But its over now. Now do you want to see your mother and brother?"

Sansa nodded so vigorously that she thought her head might fall off.

"Good," Melara said smiling. "Let's go then."

Sansa was very quiet on their walk to the camp and the brunette didn't blame her. This was obviously overwhelming and she could tell the girl didn't quite believe that the horror of the past few months was over.

But when they came in sight of the lights of the camp, Sansa stopped dead, her face becoming an ashy grey and she began to tremble.

"Are you alright?" Melara asked in concern.

"Its over," the red head whispered. "Joffrey, the queen, my being a prisoner…its all over."

"Yes, it is," Melara replied. "And now you can sleep peacefully for the first time in what I am sure is months."

She suddenly felt Sansa throw her arms around her neck and felt the younger girl's trembling increase tenfold.

"Thank you," Sansa whispered between soft sobs. "Thank you."

Melara patted her back as she often did with Roslin when she was upset. Young and naïve as she was, she was beginning to like Sansa. And she didn't deserve what had happened to her and to her family. Melara was glad that at least one part of the nightmare was over for now.

"Come on," she said. "Its time to get you home."

She imparted to Sansa as they walked into the camp that no one would see them because she had placed a spell around them making them invisible. But she didn't think the Stark girl was paying attention because her eyes kept darting this way and that as she took in the activity and the men in Stark livery that were going past.

Because it was the night time no one was really about but there was enough activity to hold the red head's eyes.

Finally when they reached the center of the camp and stood several feet from Robb Stark's tent, Melara paused and turned to Sansa.

"Here is where I leave you," she said and watched the red head's face freeze in fear. "Don't worry, I am only going back to my tent. All you have to do is go inside and your mother and brother will be there. They are going to ask you how you got here but I would ask that you don't say my name. Mostly because I don't think they would quite believe it but also because I'm not ready to reveal my magic yet…soon but not yet. When they ask just say that a friend helped you escape."

"Alright," Sansa nodded. "But you will tell my brother who you are and what you can do?"

"I will," Melara assured her. "Hopefully within the next few days. Your escape from the capital will signal a shift in the war and hopefully it will bring the morale of the men up enough to keep them fighting to overthrow the Lannisters."

Sansa took a deep breath and nodded. "After all you've done for me it's the least I can do. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Melara replied. "Now go on in. I've kept you waiting long enough."

Sansa nodded and started for the tent. Just before she entered, Melara lifted the charm disguising Robb's sister and then hurried away herself back to her tent.

There was going to be plenty of excitement in the next few minutes and she wanted to be well away before it started.

When she returned to her tent, Melara quickly released the charm concealing her and got ready for bed. She felt strangely satisfied as she slipped beneath the sheets and pulled them up to her chin.

 _It's a wonder I didn't try being nice when I was back at Hogwarts. God knows if I did I might have been less miserable. What a waste of time that was._

Ω

Thankfully Melara's sleep was dreamless and she awakened the next morning feeling refreshed and in a good mood.

There were going to be many changes brought about today she was sure of it.

She had no sooner changed her clothes and washed her face when there was the sound of running feet and Olyvar rushed into her tent. His hair was wild as if he had just jumped out of bed and his clothes were rumpled as if he had dressed all in a rush.

"Ollie whatever is the matter?" Melara demanded.

"The king is about to give a speech," her out breath brother gasped. "He wants all in the camp to be present for it."

Melara frowned. "A speech? A speech about what?"

"Just come on!" her brother snapped. "You can find out when we get there. It's probably better that you see it with your own eyes. You might not believe it otherwise."

As he rushed out of the tent again, Melara allowed herself a moment to privately smirk. _You'd be surprised at what I believe brother._

But she followed him and didn't bother pulling a cloak over her head when she did so, wearing only a pale green cotton dress in the same style that she had seen many of the servants in the Twins wear.

When she set foot outside the tent Ollie was already gone but she saw men hurrying in the direction of the king's tent and smirked to herself again. _It would seem Robb is about to make public his sister's return._

She picked up her skirts and hurried in that direction. The sun was just beginning to come over the tops of the trees and casting a shadow of light on all it touched illuminating everything around.

 _Let's hope that's a good omen._

Before long, Melara ran into a large crowd of men and wondered to herself whether or not the whole camp had turned up to hear the news.

"What is happening?" she asked one of the men standing on her left.

He gave her a long look as if wondering who she was before he answered. "The king is about to make a speech. Odd thing that."

Melara looked about the crowd and her gaze immediately slammed into Wyn's who was standing several feet away with Ollie, Ben and Will. His eyes narrowed when he saw her as if to ask if she knew what was happening. She merely shrugged her shoulders in response.

It wasn't long before the flap on the King in the North's tent was pushed aside and Robb Stark himself strode out dressed in his usual furs, sword at his waist.

There was a spring in his step however that Melara knew was only visible to a few and he all but blazed with an energy she had never seen before. He had always had something driving him as long as she had known him, the grim desire for revenge propelling him and his army forward to righteous vengeance, but now it seemed that some of the grief she had seen in his eyes had lifted.

Her being one of only two people in the camp to know the cause of it gave her a reason to smile.

Once the army saw their king, the broke out in whispers and muttering. Melara didn't dare look at her brothers again. She had a feeling that Ben and Wyn would corner her soon enough.

Robb raised his hands for silence and instantly the crowd quieted.

"My lords and good sers, I have called you here today to reveal some momentous news. Last night the old gods chose to smile upon myself and my family and return someone we long thought was lost."

The king moved aside the flap of the tent from where he was standing and the entire crowd strained forward to see who was coming out.

A moment later, a small red head emerged holding the hand of her mother. She looked vastly different from when Melara had seen her the night before. The sadness in her face was gone and her deep blue eyes were dry as a bone. There was a smile on her face that had not been there before and it must have been the imagination of the brunette but she no longer looked as gaunt as she had when the two had met twelve hours earlier.

Upon seeing Sansa Stark, the entire camp and the gathered lords burst into murmurs and whispers that carried on for several minutes before Robb Stark raised his hands again.

"How is this possible?" Melara heard someone whisper behind her and she smirked to herself.

"This is a day of celebration my lord," Robb Stark called out again, his voice becoming stronger and deeper as he spoke, taking on the hue of the north itself and that of their ancient kings. "My sister who was unjustly imprisoned has been rescued and returned to us. She arrived some time in the night by help of an unknown stranger. Perhaps this stranger was one of the old gods themselves. I know not, but I do know that we have been smiled upon this day. My sister is out of the clutches of the Lannisters and will never return to them. While my other sister Arya is still missing and will be found, we may now rejoice that the lions have nothing we now desire. And we still have a prisoner very valuable to them."

The murmurs continued and Melara realized with a shock that he was talking about Jaime Lannister.

 _Hopefully they can use him as a bargaining chip to separate the rest of the north from Westeros and King Robb will finally be recognized as that._

"My sister's return changes many things for the north," Robb Stark went on. "From this day forward, the Lannisters have cause to fear us. Winter is coming!"

"Winter is coming!" the crowd roared back and for a brief instant, Melara felt goosebumps rise on her arms.

She suddenly had a feeling that she had changed the fate of Westeros forever.

Most of Robb's speech she tuned out after this and quietly slipped away, hoping that no one would notice her as she went back to her tent.

Her brothers knew her too well for that however and a few moments after she had arrived in her dwelling place all four of them showed up.

Perwyn stormed in ahead of them all and fixed her with a glare as withering as she had ever seen. "Did you do it?"

"What a greeting," Melara said sarcastically. "Nothing like good morning dear sister, how are you, did you sleep well?"

"Do not play coy," her brother snapped. "Answer the question. Are you the one behind Sansa Stark's sudden return?"

Melara glared at him. "Do you really wish to know?"

"Would I be here asking if I didn't?"

Melara sighed and then pulled the flap of the tent closed before muttering the _muffliato_ charm.

"Yes," she said turning back to her brothers who were looking at her expectantly. "It was me."

There was a long silence that followed her words and then finally Wyn did nothing but sigh and sink down in the chair beside her bed. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. It didn't make sense for her return to be the cause of anything else but you. Why did you do it?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Melara asked. "I am to marry Robb Stark, the four of you are fighting in a war between Starks and Lannisters and the more days that pass the more men both sides will lose. Possibly yours will be one of them. I did it to minimize the loss of life. Sansa Stark was a hostage in the capital and her brother was fighting to free her. How many men would the Stark army have lost trying to get her back? My magic ensured that that would never happen."

"I see," Ben said. "While I can't say that you weren't a little reckless…I do think you did the right thing. The war may be over that much faster because of this. But this will complicate things for the Lannisters. Their bargaining chip is now gone."

"Which only leaves the question where on earth Arya Stark is," Will mused. "How far do you think she's gotten by now?"

"I don't know," Melara admitted. "When I spoke to Sansa last night she told me that her sister had disappeared on the day Lord Stark was arrested and their retinue was slaughtered. She didn't know where she's gone."

"Perhaps she is making her way north to Winterfell," Ollie suggested.

"Maybe but she is little more than a child," Perwyn said. "I don't know how a child would be resourceful enough to survive on the road."

"I suppose we will find out soon enough," Melara replied. "But for now, at least we can all take pleasure in knowing that the Lannisters have nothing more to bargain with."

"This is true," Will said. "Now the issue is what to do with Jaime Lannister who is still languishing in a holding cell. He's going to be the most complex issue the king will need to deal with."

"I thought it was the intention of the king to sue for Northern independence," Ollie asked.

"It is," Wyn said patiently, "but in order to do that he needs to get rid of all the Lannisters around him. Whether that is by bargaining with Lannister or by killing him."

Melara frowned. "Do you think he's going to do the latter?"

Ben shrugged. "There are some who want him to, especially Rickard Karstark seeing as how Lannister killed two of his sons in the battle of Whispering Wood."

Melara grimaced. "Gods, and I thought Joffrey was a sick bastard."

"All of the Lannisters are sick dear sister. Tywin Lannister is the most ruthless and power hungry bastard to walk this earth. Take away his intelligence and you would have King Aerys come again."

"From what I hear Joffrey Baratheon or perhaps should I say Hill, already has a patent on that name," Melara muttered to herself.

"Aye, he does at that," Wyn muttered. "Gods I need a drink."

"A little early for that brother," Ollie smirked.

"Don't remind me."

"So what does this mean for the future of the war?" Will asked to no one in particular.

"It means the war is going to continue," Melara said with grim certainty. "I spoke to Robb Stark a while ago about this very thing. He is set on getting revenge from Joffrey and he won't stop until he has his head."

"I do hope he realizes that means he is going to have to take out every single Lannister in order to accomplish that."

"Well he is an ambitious man," Wyn muttered. "You'd have to be in order to smash the Lannister army as many times as he has done and capture the golden lion. But the game has just been changed by you dear sister and now I believe the Starks have the upper hand."

"Arya Stark is still missing," Melara pointed out. "Suppose the Lannisters retrieve her first?"

"Then you will rescue her," Ben said in a matter of fact tone. "It seems father has given Robb Stark an unknown gift when he and Catelyn came to a marriage agreement for the two of you. When is Robb Stark going to find out that you are responsible for returning his sister to him much less who you are?"

"With regards to the second part, hopefully very soon," Melara replied. "But as to the first, he will not."

"Why ever not?"

Melara opened her mouth to respond when all of a sudden there was the sound of footsteps outside of the tent. "Lady Talisa are you there?"

The brunette quickly canceled the silencing charm and her brothers got to their feet. "I am. Come."

A younger boy who looked to be a squire poked his head through the flap of the tent and blinked upon seeing the four Freys there.

Perwyn nodded at her. "Thank you for your assistance Lady Talisa."

"Not at all Lord Perwyn," Melara replied seamlessly transitioning into the professional relationship that was required when she was dealing with her brothers and someone else was around.

The four of them nodded at her swiftly and left the tent without another word. Melara turned back to the squire once they were gone. "Yes?"

"Forgive me my lady, but his grace the king has requested that you come to his tent immediately."

Melara frowned wondering what on earth it could be this time. "Very well."

She bent down and retrieved the bag at her feet before following the squire out the door of the tent.

The walk was only a few minutes long but Melara felt her senses begin to grow sharper as she looked around.

Even in the early morning light everything seemed to be brighter and in richer colors than it had been before.

 _Things are beginning to look up for this army,_ Melara thought to herself as she walked. _Let's hope it stays that way._

A moment later they arrived outside of the large grey tent belonging to Robb Stark and the squire stole in to announce her. "Lady Talisa is here your grace."

Melara smirked as she stood outside of the canvas flap.

"Good," Robb Stark replied. "Send her in."

"No need," she said stepping through the flap and nodding at the squire who quickly fled when he saw her. "I believe I can announce myself."

She glanced about the tent interior and took in the appearance of Lady Catelyn and Sansa Stark who were sitting in two chairs by the table in the center of the room. Robb Stark was standing on the opposite side of it where maps and small figures were laid. His large direwolf Greywind was lying with his head resting on his enormous paws just inside the door of the tent.

As Melara stood there, the great beast got to his feet and padded over to her. She bent down in front of him with little fear and looked into his large amber eyes that were gazing at her with a keen intelligence.

A moment later, the wolf seemed to have achieved what he had been looking for as in the next instant, he stuck out his tongue and licked her face.

It was so surprising that Melara almost reeled back before she controlled herself. After a second, a small smile colored her face and she began to laugh.

She got to her feet and ran her hand lightly over the wolf's fur. "Now that's a much better greeting Greywind, thank you."

The brunette turned to Robb Stark then who was watching the situation intently. "You sent for me your grace."

He nodded, his deep blue eyes watching her every movement. "I did. I wanted you to see to my sister here. While she appears none the worse for wear, I want to be certain."

"I'm fine Robb," Sansa whispered doing her best not to meet Melara's gaze. The brunette could tell that the words she had spoken the night before about acting as if the two didn't know each other were coming back to her.

"You were a prisoner of the Lannisters for months sister," Robb insisted. "You might have been fed daily and clothed but that is all they would have done with regards to your wellbeing. Am I right?"

The red head chose to look down at her hands which was all the answer everyone in the tent needed.

"Sansa love," her mother said taking her hand while the other rested on her belly. "You can be truthful with us. There's no need to hide anymore."

The red head seemed to tremble for a moment before she opened her hands that were tightly clenched and revealed two long lines of indentations that looked suspiciously as if she had pressed her nails into them repeatedly until permanent marks had appeared. The angry red lines stuck out starkly in the skin and her mother pressed a hand to her mouth.

"Seven hells," Robb muttered.

Melara made no sound and instead moved over to kneel down next to the sister of the king so she might examine the scare more closely. They appeared to be self-inflicted and made under extreme stress.

 _No doubt living as a prisoner for months forced her to seek some way of releasing her emotions._

Sansa's hands trembled as Melara ran her index finger gently over the palms of both of her hands.

"How long have these been here?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"A moon perhaps, maybe two," Sansa said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. "I don't really remember."

"That's alright," Melara assured her before reaching into the bag at her feet and pulling out a small vial of the moonstone mixture. She uncorked the bottle and poured a bit into her hand. "This is going to sting."

Sansa nodded and Melara carefully poured a little of the silvery mixture into the redhead's hand and slowly began massaging it into her palm. The sister of the king made no other noise other than to flinch a few times.

Melara was privately impressed with her resolve. She seemed fragile but was obviously made of some stern stuff. Moonstone could be unpleasant when it was first applied and as she worked the salve into Sansa's hands Melara could feel her gradually becoming less and less stiff as if some inner tension was being soothed away.

After a moment Sansa closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "That feels much better thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Is there anything else?" Catelyn Stark asked. "Is there anything else that monster did?"

At the rather sharp question, Sansa's eyes shot open and her blue eyes darted fearfully about the tent like a cornered animal.

And Melara knew she was hiding something.

So too did Robb apparently for his eyes narrowed at his sister. "Sansa…what did Joffrey do to you?"

The redhead's lower lip began to tremble and when she spoke again, her voice was so low that they were barely able to hear her. "That…That wasn't all. But I…I only want Lady…Talisa to tend to them. Could you please wait outside?"

A look was exchanged between Catelyn and Robb, the former of which leaned forward as much as her large belly would allow her and gently lifted her daughter's chin so she could look into her blue eyes that were filling with tears. "Sansa love, you're safe. You can tell us anything."

Sansa shook her head, keeping her eyes closed then. "I don't want to upset anyone mother. Your time is almost here. You're carrying father's last child and I don't wish to upset you. Please."

Melara took a deep breath and looked up at the King in the North and saw that his eyes were blazing with a blue fire she had never seen before. But after a moment he seemed to master himself and nodded sharply. "Come mother. We should give Sansa and Lady Talisa a moment."

Catelyn Stark looked incredulously up at her son and appeared ready to protest. "Robb – "

" _Now_ mother," the young king said in a voice that betrayed no argument and the older red head looked up at him in surprise. She sagged slightly when she saw that he was serious and allowed him to help her to her feet.

"We'll be outside if you need us sweetling," she said to Sansa, her own voice trembling as Robb led her to the door of the tent.

Melara got up to close the flap but was stopped by Robb who had led his mother outside and then suddenly seized a hold of her hand. "You will do what you can for her?"

His gaze on her was so intense that it almost made her uncomfortable.

Almost.

She nodded. "Of course your grace."

He gave her a sharp nod as if he were trying to keep himself in check and then walked out of the tent, sending the flap swinging closed.

Melara waited until she was sure he was gone before turning back to the red head who was trembling like a leaf. The great direwolf who had not moved from the tent after

Robb padded over to Sansa and licked her hand causing the girl to utter a choked laugh.

"Well then," the brunette said moving to occupy the chair that Catelyn Stark had occupied moments earlier. "What happened?"

Sansa was quiet for a moment before she raised a trembling hand to the collar of her dress and pushed it down as far as she could.

It was then that Melara caught sight of an ugly red scar beginning at the top of her shoulder and making its way out of sight down her back beneath the cloth of the dress.

A sick feeling entered the brunette's stomach and she had a cold feeling that this wasn't the only other scar that Joffrey had inflicted upon her.

"I take it this isn't the only one," she said and Sansa shook her head, refusing to meet her eyes. "No."

Melara paused to process that for a moment before she gave a sharp nod. "Right then. In order to dress them, I will need to see them."

Sansa paused for a moment before nodding, some of her resolve returning. "What do you need me to do?"

The women of the north were indeed made of stern stuff then.

"Turn around," Melara said.

The red head hesitated for a moment before doing so and Melara carefully unbuttoned the back of her dress until the pale skin appeared.

Her eyes went wide and she felt sick in the next moment.

The fair skin of Sansa's back was riddled with scars, some short and some long but most were red, angry looking and appeared fresh. Some were jagged as if she had been beaten with an object that was itself not smooth and then others were straight lined that looked as if they had come from the flat of a blade.

 _What the bloody hell did that monster do to her?!_

It took a massive effort for her not to react to what she was seeing but her long silence was telling enough.

"Its awful isn't it?" Sansa asked.

Melara felt the need to lighten the mood then. "Don't take this the wrong way Lady Sansa, but as a healer I've seen a lot worse."

"Yes, I suppose you have," the Stark girl said softly. "And even though your name is not Talisa, you're still a healer then?"

"I am," Melara replied. "That's one thing that hasn't changed."

"Good, I'm glad."

Melara took out some of the moonstone mixture and again slowly worked it into the skin on Sansa's back.

"Why is it so cold?" the red head asked.

"Moonstones retain the cold from the elements until they come into contact with skin," Melara explained. "They're formed by water, sand and the light of the moon which is why they are always found in water. There is a large stream outside of the Twins where a large quantity of them form every few weeks or so. That's where I found the ones that make up this mixture."

"Will it get rid of the scars?"

"I hope so. Some maesters claim that moonstones have magical properties that regenerate skin tissue and this is somewhat true."

"Somewhat?"

"I used this same mixture on a wound that your brother suffered from a few days ago," Melara explained. "I can only assume by now that its been healed. Hopefully your scars will respond the same way. The physical ones at least."

There was a long silence between the two women and when Sansa spoke again it was in a broken whisper. "He used to say that he was punishing me. That I had to pay for my traitorous family's crimes because father was dead and Arya was gone. For every battle that Robb won he would call me into the throne room, strip me and then have his guards beat me while he watched."

It was a good thing that Sansa couldn't see her because Melara was hard pressed to keep herself from bristling with rage. That sounded like something that crazy bint Bellatrix Lestrange would have enjoyed. The woman would have fit right in with Joffrey as his personal torturer of the prisoners.

"How long?" she asked.

"Weeks," Sansa whispered back and barely restrained a flinch as Melara kept rubbing the mixture into her skin until her back was shiny. "He began almost as soon as he took my father's head. He took me up on the walls of the keep and made me look at father's head on a spike."

She was trembling harder now and Melara placed a gentle hand on her shoulder to stop her from continuing to upset herself. "It's over now Sansa. It won't happen again."

The younger girl nodded shakily and Greywind let out a whine before licking her hand.

Melara reached into her bag and pulled out a roll of bandages which she gently pressed against Sansa's back to trap the mixture against her skin.

When she was done, she buttoned the back of Sansa's dress back up and got from her chair so she might look the auburn haired girl in the eyes.

Tears had spilled over onto Sansa's cheeks and her lower lip was trembling while she desperately tried to hide it.

Gently Melara took hold of her chin in her hand so that the two might look at each other.

When Sansa finally raised her eyes to meet Melara's jade ones, it appeared as if the sister of the king was trying desperately to keep herself from falling apart.

"It's alright to cry," Melara said softly. "You don't have to hide anymore."

That seemed to be all the encouragement that the red head needed for a strangled sob burst forth from her lips then and the next moment she all but fell into Melara's arms as a wellspring of grief seemed to well up inside of her and had come pouring out.

While she wasn't the sort of person who was affectionate, Melara held onto the red head, saying nothing and simply smoothing her hair back.

There were no words she could say to take away the pain that Sansa had suffered, so instead she simply held Robb's sister…and let her cry.

Ω

About a half an hour later after Sansa's grief had given way to exhaustion, Melara led the younger girl over to the bed in the corner and let her lie down on it before she covered her with one of the furs.

Even though it was Robb's bed Melara didn't think he would mind.

She had no sooner pulled the fur up to Sansa's chin when the flap of the tent opened and the king in the north strode back in sans Catelyn.

He took in the scene before him, his sister in his bed and the healer tucking her in and locked eyes with Melara. "How is she?"

The brunette sighed. "Better now. Her physical wounds will heal…it's the emotional and mental ones I'm worried about."

In the light of the tent, Robb's face appeared ashy grey as he took in her words. "What did he do to her?"

Melara shook her head as she bent down to retrieve her bag. "I don't think you want to know your grace. At least not yet. Let her tell you in her own time. I think it was easier to say it all to me because I don't really know her. Just give her some time."

Robb stared down at his sister, barely noticing when Greywind nudged his hand.

"I wanted to rescue her," he said hoarsely. "I did. It's why I started this war, not just for her but for father and for Arya and for Bran. I started it to take vengeance from the Lannisters that wronged us."

"Revenge is a pure motive," Melara admitted. "And you would have been right to do so."

Robb looked up at her and she was surprised to see an almost tortured look in his blue eyes. "Was I though? All its done is bled the realm and subjected Sansa to that monster Joffrey's cruelty."

"She would have been subjected to it whether you called the banners or not," Melara broke in. "Don't blame yourself for something that would have happened no matter what you did."

Robb nodded. "Will she be alright?"

He seemed desperately to be holding on to some hope of putting his family back together and she couldn't blame him. Other than her brothers, Melara had been a lone wolf her entire life never needing anyone and never asking for help. Because of her magic she hadn't needed to.

Now she wondered what it would be like to be needed in this way.

"I don't know," she replied. "But she's here. And that's enough right now."

Robb nodded before turning to her as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "Thank you my lady."

She nodded and turned away. "Of course."

As the brunette moved past him, his hand shot out and seized a hold of hers stopping her.

She looked up and saw his blue eyes blazing with an intensity that was familiar and at the same time entirely different.

It was then that she realized they were standing very close.

"No," he said in a low voice. "Truly…thank you. Since you've come here its been a strange habit that you have been the only healer to tend to all three Starks in this camp."

She gave him a small smile. "I suppose its just my bad luck."

He didn't laugh which made her wonder what on earth was going through that mind of his. His deep blue eyes swept up and down her face but seemed to linger for longer than usual on her lips. "I suppose so."

Melara froze then as a sudden realization came over her all at once. _He's going to kiss me._

Her suspicion proved correct for in the next moment he leaned down and covered her mouth with his own.

He moved his lips slowly over hers and once she had gotten over her surprise at his gesture, Melara began to mimic his movements, kissing him back.

Melara pressed her hands to his chest as an almost giddy feeling coursed through her and she felt his arm enclose her she could feel the hard muscles of his body through his tunic which set her heart to racing and her breath to hitch slightly.

He pulled her even closer to him and a part of her wanted to melt with the contact.

A part of her was screaming at her to step away, back off, do something to put some distance between them but the primal part of her didn't care.

After a moment however, reason returned and with a herculean effort Melara forced herself to break the kiss and step back.

When she met Robb's eyes again, she was surprised to see they had darkened slightly as they took her in.

With a strained effort, she stopped herself from shivering at that look.

There was a long silence between them and Melara knew she had to leave now or else she never would.

"Stay with her," she said softly. "Someone should be here when she wakes up."

Robb simply nodded and she walked out of the tent as quickly as she dared, feeling his eyes on her up until the moment she closed the flap of the tent behind her.

It was only then that she let out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. This was bad…this was very bad.

 _I suppose that's one way to say thank you,_ Melara thought to herself grimly. _I just hope he doesn't make a habit out of it. Otherwise I might have to come up with a way to say your welcome. And I don't think either of us is ready for that._

Ω

 **And I'm back! It's good to be back with this story even though its only been a few weeks since an update. Things are finally heating up between Robb and Melara and so I have decided that if not in the next chapter, than in the one after that will she tell him who she is. She needs to now that the two of them are beginning to develop feelings for each other and the war has changed. Things will continue to heat up in the coming chapters, both between Robb and Melara and in Westeros as a whole. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and don't forget to review!**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Melara didn't see Robb for a few days after their last encounter, something she was privately grateful for.

The memory of their kiss was enough to keep her awake for longer than usual the night after it happened and she had finally resorted to a sleeping potion that she sometimes kept in her bag for emergencies in order to achieve relief.

It was just a kiss, why in the seven hells was she reacting this way?

She hadn't known Robb Stark for long and yet the memory of his smoldering blue eyes and how they darkened when they had looked at her was enough to make her shiver.

It wasn't just the memory of how he was making her feel however that was bothering the beautiful brunette though. It was the knowledge that her wedding was looming and there would be a time coming when Robb would return to the Twins and find that she had hidden the truth of who she was from him.

She couldn't do that.

And so Melara resolved that the very next time they had an opportunity to speak, she would tell him everything.

She didn't know when she would confess the secret of her magic, but for the moment it was a much needed start.

Keeping secrets was as second nature to her as breathing but there came a time when withholding information became dangerous. She could easily see this becoming a problem if she held out for too much longer.

The last thing Melara wanted was for there to be shattered trust between them once the King in the North knew the truth.

She made no mention of what had happened with Robb to her brother's because Wyn would most likely be livid that she hadn't told the truth yet and Ben would get this grim look on his face that always happened when he was questioning her actions.

But they would be right, she did need to really get on with it.

And so a few days after she had nearly entered into a compromising situation in the King in the North's tent, Melara had made up her mind to speak the truth to him that very day.

And then the ravens came.

It was early morning and she had just returned from gathering the morning dew in the woods when the brunette came upon a surprising sight.

She had suffered from no more dreams lately, but the memory of the first vivid night vision was constantly on her mind.

The night before, Melara had disguised herself and returned to the Twins where she had stolen into the godswood and sat before the heart tree for almost an hour just staring up into the face that was carved at its center, staring into its burning red eyes as if she were searching for the answer to the entirety of the universe.

She didn't say anything and neither did the tree, but she hadn't expected it to. Whatever she had been looking for, whether it was divine intervention or some sort of spiritual sign from above, she hadn't found it.

And Melara had left the Twins more frustrated than when she had come.

So with nothing else to do, she had returned to her tent and gone back to brewing. She ahd been practicing a potion that had been her most difficult one back when she was still in England.

Like most healing potions it involved moonstones and her abundant access to them here in Westeros was a blessing.

It was difficult however because this potion could be used for head injuries. For example, if a person had experience amnesia or some other disorder from a blow to the head, if the potion worked it would restore the memories to the person who had lost them. Likewise it would aid in the regeneration of muscle functions and restore use to a limb that may have been lost.

In a way, the function of the potion was to restore the…well….function of a person that had once been lost.

But so far when she had tested it on herself and thought hard about some memory that might have occurred back when she was in England, all Melara got was a nagging feeling of déjà vu.

The longer she lived in Westeros, more and more of her memories of her old life began to fade.

 _I shudder to think of the day that I won't remember that my name was Pansy Parkinson, or the faces of my brother and parents…or Ron's face for that matter._

It was a conundrum alright, but it was only a smaller problem in the face of a much larger puzzle.

The war was still going on all around them and the longer Robb stayed at the Crag even though it had barely been two weeks was time enough for the Lannisters to regroup.

But from what Melara had gathered, the lions had their hands full with preparing for the arrival of Stannis Baratheon to the capital.

 _Let us hope that they remain busy,_ Melara thought as she walked out of the woods and back to the camp.

On top of the added strangeness of the situation that she was in, it was surprising that Sansa Stark had taken to spending a lot of time with her over the course of the last few days.

Since her surprising confession in Robb's tent a few days earlier, a sort of invisible bond had sprung up between the two young women. Even though Sansa was two years younger than the brunette, Melara did feel a sort of sisterly affections for her.

Thankfully the red head had resisted mentioning any sort of connection to her brother and had simply seemed to be interested in healing.

Fortunately, potions was one thing that could be taught to Muggles because it didn't require that one be magical in order to make something that was magical. You simply needed the right ingredients.

Melara could sense that Sansa desired to make herself useful after all her time spent doing next to nothing in the capital and to stave off worry about her little sister and so she didn't question the girl's desire to help her.

If anything, Sansa might pick up some useful skills that she didn't have before.

 _I certainly hope these moonstones last for a long time,_ she thought to herself glancing into her basket as she walked back to the camp. _As we get closer and closer to Casterly Rock I have a feeling that I am going to be using more and more of it._

The moonstones and dew weren't the only things in her basket however.

When she had visited the Twins the night before, Melara had been struck by the many blood red leaves that fell from the trees and were present on the ground around her.

Upon picking one of them up, Melara wondered if there were any healing properties to the leaves themselves. It was said that the children of the Forest had carved faces into their trunks and the Children of the Forest were no doubt magical. Therefore wasn't it possible that the trunks of these great white trees contained at least an iota of magic as well?

The opportunity was too good to pass up and so the brunette had collected as much as she dared and returned to the camp.

She had just entered it and had come within sight of her tent when she saw a familiar form standing outside of it.

Her eyes narrowed. _What is the king doing awake this early?_

Robb had made no attempt to speak with her since their moment a few days earlier and while she knew it was for the best Melara could not help but be disappointed at his lack of interest.

It was then that she berated herself. _He knows that he is promised to someone who he thinks is not you fool! If Robb Stark is one ounce as honorable as his father than he will have nothing more to do with you. If you want what happened a few days ago to continue than you need to tell him the truth! And it seems you have been given the perfect opportunity._

Robb Stark was dressed in his armor and usual furs but what surprised Melara the most was that he was alone, all except for Greywind who was standing by his side.

The large wolf had come up to Robb's waist at this time and Melara was certain he would be a formidable sight on the battlefield.

He was usually always surrounded by his contingent of guards and knights, why was this time any different?

It could only mean one thing…he wanted to speak to her alone.

Despite herself, Melara swallowed hard. She paused for a moment at the edge of the camp where she was still standing invisible and eyed the man who she would be married to before long.

He carried himself well, from where she could see. The way he was standing didn't betray any nerves at being there or fidgeting as if he were second guessing himself in coming. His hands were clasped in front of him and even though he was still draped in furs, he looked perfectly at ease. His blue eyes were calm and level headed and he was waiting at the door of her tent as if he knew she wasn't inside but wouldn't enter until she arrived.

Melara smirked a bit. _I suppose its somewhat ironic that I would like a gentlemen when the last person I was with was anything but._

Ron was many things but a gentlemen wasn't one of them. He told it like it was and so did she, which was part of what made them so compatible.

Well that and they were both complete animals in bed.

Melara's smirk widened as she allowed her thoughts to dwell on that for a moment before she controlled herself and walked slowly forward, releasing the spell on herself as the morning mist cleared so it appeared as if she were simply walking out of it.

The brunette had been told she was always light of foot by her brothers and that no one would be able to hear her coming and so it was a theory that she decided to put to the test.

It appeared to work because she was able to steal up behind the King and only paused a few feet away from him before she spoke.

"My my my, it shouldn't be a common thing for someone to sneak up on the King in the North. You need to be on your toes your grace. I could just as well have been a Lannister soldier."

Robb turned around quickly, one hand flying to the hilt of his sword and relaxing upon seeing her. "My lady."

Melara raised an eyebrow at him. "I had thought better of you your grace. It isn't like you to be startled easily."

"No its not," he replied. "But any man can become lost in his own thoughts when his body has little to do."

"True enough," she replied stepping past him and reaching for the flap of the tent so that she might open it. "Do you wish to come in? Or am I mistaken in thinking that there is something you wanted to speak to me about?"

"You are not," he replied. "But I would prefer to discuss the nature of this matter whilst standing. Perhaps we could walk?"

He gestured to the wood she had just come from and Melara raised an eyebrow at him. While it sounded nice, she needed to be even more careful than usual around him.

Then she reminded herself that this would be the perfect opportunity to tell him the truth. There was no reason to put it off any longer.

"A walk does sound pleasant," she said after a moment. "Very well. I suppose it wouldn't be a bad idea."

She went quickly into her tent and set the basket of potions ingredients down on the table before exiting the tent and looking briefly at the king. "Shall we?"

Fortunately it was still early morning and so the camp was just beginning to stir when they left.

The grey and white tents disappeared as they walked through the trees and Melara carefully folded her hands behind her back, wondering what the young king wished to talk about.

The ground was still wet with the morning dew and Melara smiled as she glanced down at it wondering if she might be able to collect some more after she left the king in order to stock up her supply.

In the light of the early morning, there was still mist on the ground in some places and as it rose slowly into the air it was quite beautiful to behold. As it rose, it melded with the rays of the sun and turned them all an almost silvery gold color. It was like little rain drops rising from the ground to the sky.

Melara barely noticed how quiet Robb was until several minutes into their walk.

"You appear troubled your grace," she said raising an eyebrow. "May I ask what the matter is?"

Robb gave her a small smile which didn't seem to reach his eyes. "There are many things that are wrong of late my lady, but such is the matter of war. Like you said several weeks ago, no one is happy about conflict."

Melara's brow furrowed. Had he actually been listening to what she was saying at Oxcross what felt like an age ago?

Greywind butted his large shaggy head against her hand and she absently rested her hand atop his back.

"It does seem like a never ending entity doesn't it?" she asked. "Once the Westerlands have fallen to the Starks you will no doubt proceed to King's Landing where you will besiege the city and take the head of the boy king. Am I right?"

Robb raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you always this cynical my lady?"

"One of my many flaws no doubt. Sarcasm is both a blessing and a curse. But I digress, this is what you plan to do is it not?"

"Aye."

"And once Joffrey Baratheon is cast down?" Melara asked. "What then?"

Robb paused. "I have been….considering what you have said and perhaps it would not be such a bad thing to sit on the Iron Throne."

Of all the things he might have said, _that_ certainly wasn't something she had been expecting to hear.

"Really?" Melara asked. "And what changed your mind?"

"In a way you did," Robb went on as they walked. "My father died for that ugly iron chair and now the one who sits on it is a false sadistic little shit who styles himself the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. What way to turn the kingdoms around and to honor him by sitting on it myself?"

Melara looked at him cautiously. "That is either a very wise or a very arrogant notion your grace."

"Arrogant?"

"Indeed. You can't simply take the throne because you feel you would be the best ruler for the realm. Power should be viewed as a burden and not a right. Anyone who claims the benefit of power because he can and is able to is one step removed from a mad man. And this realm has seen many. As much as I feel the realm might strengthen under your hand, I am somewhat biased because I cannot think of many just men who were honorable, but at the same time cunning enough to avoid the pitfalls that those who are foolish find themselves in."

"Men like my father?" Robb asked.

Melara shook her head. "I didn't say him. There have been many men in the past who though honorable did not account for the fact that others would not be as well."

After a moment Robb nodded. "You make a fair point."

Melara smirked. "I know I do. I suppose its one of the benefits of being a woman. No one asks you for your opinion but you are able to make the more informed ones by simply observing the actions of others. It's a hidden advantage to my sex I suppose."

Robb looked at her for a long time, appearing to think about what she had said. "Maybe that is true. I certainly grew up around enough women to know that their opinion counts for something. My mother and Sansa were certainly vocal enough about what they wanted."

 _Maybe that's because you actually had a father who valued your mother's opinion. Walder Frey didn't let my mother speak unless she was first spoken to and he didn't want her around other men._

"And so if you were in my position what would you do?" Robb asked.

It was a loaded question. He was testing her and Melara knew it. What she didn't know was why and that was the most aggravating thing.

"I would continue fighting your grace," Melara replied. "Your ultimate goal at this point is Casterly Rock. Once that is taken you are planning to make for the capital yes?"

"Aye," Robb replied. "I had hoped to send an envoy to Renly Baratheon to perhaps barter for the freedom of the north once he becomes King however those plans fell through when he was murdered."

"By his own brother I heard," Melara mused. "My what a time we live in. And now Stannis Baratheon is sailing for the capital with all of his brother's men and ships to tear the Lannisters down from the Iron Throne. What are you going to do should he succeed?"

Robb sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I have thought of that. In either case whether the Lannisters succeed or Stannis does neither of them is going to let me keep the northern half of this realm."

"And so in order to retain northern independence you will need to fight another war either with Stannis or continue the one with the Lannisters," Melara concluded.

"Precisely."

"You do have a dilemma your grace," Melara said and Robb gave her a grim smile. "Now you know the sum total of my problem. In each instant I keep coming back to the notion of simply taking the throne for myself. I never wanted it but if taking it is the only way to ensure northern independence I don't see what other choice I have."

Melara was silent for a moment. "I can see your mindset is in the right place."

"You do?"

"Yes. You don't desire the throne for the power it will afford you, but rather because you fear the effects of your people if you don't take it. You would put them before your desires for peace and tranquility, knowing that such a role would paint a target on your back for the rest of your life. I do find that admirable."

Robb nodded but didn't say a thing. "It's not a choice I am eager to make. There is always the possibility that I could die in this war and then all of this will be out of my hands, but it is one that I try not to think about."

Melara grimaced slightly and bit the edge of her lip to try and keep her thoughts on that hidden. She hadn't known Robb for very long but she didn't like the idea of him dying and knew it would affect her more than she cared to admit.

"Suppose you not think about that for the time being," she said. "Yes war is a game of chances most of the time but you seem to have had luck so far. You have bested the Lannister army on every count and you still retain a valuable prisoner of theirs."

"Ah yes, the matter of Jaime Lannister," Robb said and Greywind who was walking between them whined slightly as if sensing his master' discomfort. "He is another complication I almost wish I didn't have."

"You can't think like that," Melara said. "He is a bargaining tool after all and what you do with him will shape the course of this war. Whether you send him to the wall or kill him is up to you. You no longer need to use him to bargain for your sister's lives as the only Stark they had is now here with you. You could execute Jaime Lannister and it would be entirely within your rights to do so."

"I could," Robb said and he honestly appeared as if he were considering the idea. "The Kingslayer killed two of Lord Rickard's sons in the battle of Whispering Wood and he has been demanding his head ever since. I have held off because I believed Lannister would be a good bargaining tool to return my sisters to me. But now that I have Sansa back and Arya is somewhere on the run, they have nothing else that I want. Jaime Lannister is now disposable."

"The question you must ask yourself is how badly you want him dead," Melara put in. "Because if you execute him now it will enrage the Lannisters more than they already are and it will give them even more incentive to try and crush you. However if you keep him as a prisoner, those who are demanding his head may see it fit to leave as you are not giving them what they wish."

Robb muttered a curse out beneath his breath and Melara snorted in agreement.

"No one ever said being a king is easy," she said and he chuckled in agreement. "Aye they didn't at that. But I thank you for the honest advice my lady."

"Of course."

They continue to walk on in complete silence and Melara began to feel a weight settle about her shoulders. She knew the time had come to say what she had to say.

"Speaking of honesty," she began and Robb's blue eyes fastened to her face. "There is something I need to tell you."

"And that is?"

Melara sighed and braced herself. She had a feeling this was going to be harder than she thought. "I haven't been entirely honest with you about some things your grace."

Robb's eyes narrowed at her. "What do you mean?"

"My name," Melara replied. "Talisa isn't my name."

"I beg your pardon?" Robb asked. "Then what is your name?"

She stopped then and turned to look at him so he would know that she was sincere in what she was about to say. She certainly hoped she wouldn't regret it.

"My name is Melara," she replied calmly. "Melara Frey. My brothers are currently serving in your army, Perwyn, Benfrey, Willamen and Olyvar. I believe my brother Wyn is currently serving within your counsels."

Robb's mouth opened and then shut for a moment. "Walder's Frey's daughter…you are the one to whom I am supposed to marry. The one my mother drew up a contract with Lord Walder for."

Melara nodded. "I am."

Robb stared at her so hard that she began to become uncomfortable and there was some accusation in his eyes. "Why would you lie about who you were to me?"

Melara sighed again. "My primary reason for being here was to check on the wellbeing of my brothers. War is an ugly business and perhaps it is foolish but I wished to be here to tend to them if something went wrong. Ollie is only a year older than I am."

Robb opened his mouth again but was suddenly cut off when a voice called out to them.

Melara looked up, muttering out a low curse and was slightly startled to see that they had arrived back at the edge of the forest and the entrance to the camp. A soldier bearing Stark livery was coming towards them almost running.

He skidded to a stop in front of Robb and bowed hurriedly. "Forgive me for interrupting your grace but ravens have arrived from the West. Casterly Rock has fallen to the Ironborn."

The expression Robb's face was replaced by one of pure astonishment. "What?"

"I speak the truth your grace," the man replied. "It seems lord Balon's fleets have attacked Lannisport and are reeving the city right now."

A look of savage triumph overcame Robb's face and he seized the letter the man was offering and scanned it quickly before clapping the soldier on the shoulder. "Good man, some good news at last."

"I am afraid that that is not all your grace," the soldier replied and handed over a second letter. Robb took it somewhat more gingerly than he had the first and scanned it quickly before muttering out several curses. "It seems Lord Greyjoy has also ordered some of his fleet to attack the coast of the north as well. The old bastard is finally having his revenge for the Greyjoy rebellion when I was a child."

"Aye your grace," the man replied.

"This could not have come at a worse time," Robb muttered. "We are now so close to King's Landing and achieving our goal and yet I cannot leave the North vulnerable."

He turned to the soldier. "Thank you for bringing this to me."

The soldier bowed and hurried off. Melara decided that now was her time to leave.

"I will leave you to your work your grace," she said calmly. "I am certain you have much to do."

She was about to walk off when Robb reached out and took hold of her hand. He was by no means rough with her but there was a purpose in the gesture that made her look up into his intent blue eyes.

Melara couldn't read the look in them but he didn't appear angry, at least it didn't look like it. "You still owe me an explanation my lady."

She nodded. "Aye, I do and you shall have it. But is now the best time when you have news to process and plans to make? If you truly wish to hear the story come to my tent tonight after all this excitement has died down. We will be able to talk then."

He looked at her for a long time before giving her a sharp nod. "Very well. But I will have the truth."

Melara raised an eyebrow at him. "That you will."

And then she gently freed herself from his grasp and strode quickly away.

Ω

Melara kept mostly to herself for the rest of the day and didn't emerge from her tent too often. She could still hear the flurry of activity outside and wondered what sort of plans Robb has decided to make with regards to the news he had received.

 _The Ironborn attacking Casterly Rock has been a blessing in disguise,_ she thought to herself. _Now Robb can reposition his army and make straight for King's Landing instead of Lannisport. This will limit his losses and is a deadly blow to the Lannisters. I think I would like to see Tywin Lannisters face when he receives this news. I wonder if any news has been received about Stannis Baratheon. Things have been very quiet on that front as well. If he had defeated the Lannisters and become the new king I think we would have heard about it by now. But then if he had lost we would have heard about it either. Gods I detest the message system in this world!_

Melara spent the rest of the day making new potions to aid the army during the war and to keep her mind off the conversation she and Robb were no doubt soon going to have.

While she felt bad for having hid the truth for so long, she didn't regret coming to join the war effort at all. Most of this had been an accident after all.

She hadn't been intending to remain as a healer for his army, her only mission had been to check on her brothers after the battle at the Crag and then he had offered her a place in his army.

She supposed she could have refused him and left then, but a part of her had not wanted to. Not only because she had seen something in him that was different than the man she had met at Oxcross, perhaps to her because he had looked vulnerable while she tended to him, perhaps because she was beginning to soften…whatever the case she hadn't left and this was the situation as it stood.

 _I remember my father…my real father saying to me when he told me we had to change sides that not every action is right and not every action is wrong. It all depends upon perspective. To an outsider this might have been a foolhardy objective, but I am satisfied about what I have done and how I have done it. Robb knows now, his sister is returned to him and judging how things will be over the next few days the war might turn in his favor. I am satisfied….and I hope he is too._

Just then there was the sound of footsteps outside of her tent and she glanced up to see Sansa Stark standing in the doorway.

The red head looked at her warily for a moment before she opened her mouth. "May I come in?"

"Of course," Melara replied.

Sansa nodded before entering and then looked around the interior of the tent as if she didn't know where to stand.

Melara chuckled and then waved her hand, conjuring up a second chair. She saw Sansa's eyes widen at the gesture before blinking slightly and moving toward the chair that had just appeared.

"I don't think I'm ever going to become used to that," she said softly as she sat down. "One half of my mind keeps telling me it's a trick and the other keeps saying that I wouldn't be here without it. Part of me just thinks this is all a fantastic dream and I'm going to wake back up in the Tower of the Hand waiting to be summoned by Joffrey and wondering what fresh hell he is going to heap upon me today."

"I assure you Sansa magic is very real," Melara put in calmly as she bustled about the tent. "It's the reason I am."

"I know," the red head replied. "But I'm still having a hard time grasping the fact that people like you exist. You're not a Targaryen and if there was anyone in Westeros who I would think it would be normal to have magic it would be one of them. You're also not of the north and I've read a lot of stories about northern history where magic was present. You're in between the south and the north and that's what makes this all so confusing."

"Magic doesn't change who I am," Melara told her. "I'm still the same girl who rescued you from King's Landing."

"You are," Sansa affirmed. "And my gratefulness doesn't change whether you have magic or not. It just makes things more complicated."

"Aye it does," Melara muttered. "That's one thing I dislike about it. I never told my father I had magic because of what he might say or do. Either he would try to kill me as a heretic or he would try and use me as a weapon to further the ambitions of House Frey. Neither of those things are something I can abide by."

"Your family is much different from mine," Sansa observed. "I can imagine my father being a little wary at first because its something he doesn't truly understand, but in time he would come to accept it, if the person who had it was someone Robb loved."

Melara snorted slightly. "Your brother doesn't love me."

"Not yet," Sansa said with a calm certainty. "He will though."

Melara gave her a bitter chuckle and shook her head. "The woman your brother is attracted to is called Talisa."

"Not anymore."

At the quiet admission, Melara turned to face the red head who was looking calmer and more relaxed than she had ever seen her.

"He told you," she said.

"He did," Sansa replied.

"And?"

"He's….confused," Sansa said which wasn't really comforting. "I think you're the first woman that he's ever felt anything for and so the fact that you deceived him is somewhat hard to take."

Melara felt a stab of guilt and immediately pushed it down. _I didn't ask for or want any of this._

The expression on her face must have been telling because Sansa immediately spoke up. "You needn't worry. My brother is the sort of person that may be angry for a bit but once he talked to you and hears you out it won't remain that way."

 _I hope so._

"In the meantime he's got enough on his mind to deal with," Sansa continued. "Our plans have changed it seems. Now that the Greyjoys are responsible for attacking Lannisport we no longer have to go as west as my brother thought. I also heard that Stannis Baratheon was defeated at Blackwater by the Lannisters so he won't be a problem any longer."

"I don't really think it mattered who won that fight," Melara said. "Either way your brother would still be fighting someone."

"I suppose you're right. But now at least we have cause to fight more. Stannis Baratheon never did anything to us but the Lannisters took my father and tortured me for weeks before I was rescued," Sansa said with a sudden vehemence. "Perhaps it's cruel of me but I want to see every last one of them suffer."

"I don't think it's cruel at all," Melara replied. "Revenge is a pure emotion. The pursuit of it can be a righteous thing if it's for the right reason. I have a feeling that even if your brother did not call the banners but did not come to bend the knee to Joffrey, the little monster still would have demanded that his troops march north to meet the king in pitched battle. At least now things can be decided on their own terms."

"Lannisters are a prideful lot," Sansa fairly spat. "And Cersei and Joffrey are the most of all. Joffrey wouldn't have been content to agree to Robb's terms."

Then she got a thoughtful look on her face.

"What is it?" Melara asked.

"Nothing," Sansa replied. "It's just I haven't thought about the Lannisters in the last few days since I got here. But I wonder what my disappearance is doing to them. I don't suppose it matters but a part of me would love to see Joffrey's face when he realizes what's happened."

Melara chuckled to herself momentarily distracted from her somewhat dark thoughts. "Now that you mention it that does sound like something worth knowing about. I'm more concerned about how the bitch queen is going to react when she learns that Casterly Rock has fallen to the Greyjoys."

Sansa laughed. "I suppose that would be a sight to see. I'm just wondering why it is that Balon Greyjoy decided to side with us."

"I don't think he's siding with anyone," Melara said as she sat down. She picked up the simple decanter of wine from the corner of the table and poured a glass for her and Sansa. "I think he's taking advantage of an opportunity. Casterly Rock had been all but abandoned since Tywin Lannister somehow made it to King's Landing to stop Stannis Baratheon's army from taking the city. I don't know how he did it but somehow he did. It doesn't matter at any rate. What we do know is that Balon Greyjoy is a greedy bastard who has longed to declare the Iron Islands independent since he took it over from old Lord Quellon. Perhaps this will be the second Greyjoy rebellion. However in this way its sort of working in our favor."

"Agreed," Sansa replied taking a cautious sip from her own glass of wine. "But from what Robb told me the Greyjoys are attacking all up and down the coast which means they are targeting the north as well. Theon seems to believe that its because his father wants revenge for the death of his brothers in the Greyjoy rebellion years earlier."

"That wouldn't surprise me," Melara muttered.

"Theon doesn't have very many memories of him," Sansa went on. "But he did tell me that the man he remembered was very different from the one that he saw when he returned to the Iron Islands to ask for his help."

"Different how?" Melara asked.

Sansa chuckled. "If I remember his words correctly, he was "a right shit." He demanded that Theon betray Robb and attack the north instead to prove his mettle as a Greyjoy but Theon refused. He may have his flaws like the rest of us, but Theon has always been loyal to a fault. I didn't know that he considered my father more of his father than his own and I was shocked when he said those words to me. He said his real father died in King's Landing and he would be spitting on his name and legacy and the man who essentially raised him if he were to turn his cloak now."

Sansa appeared to be getting a little emotional now. "I didn't know he had so much loyalty. It makes me feel lucky."

Melara nodded suddenly feeling an odd lump in her throat as well as she contemplated her first family and what they were doing now.

 _Would they have had a funeral for me?_ She wondered absently to herself. _I've been gone sixteen years and I'm not even certain that there was a body to bury. They must have moved on by now. Ron must have moved on by now._

"Are you alright?" Sansa asked.

"Yes," Melara replied. "Yes I think so."

Sansa glanced out the door of the tent and sighed before getting to her feet. "I think I should be getting back. As my mother's time grows closer I want to be with her as much as possible. She's carrying my father's last child and I don't want to waste a moment. This whole thing has taught me life is precious and should never be taken for granted."

"That's a good sentiment to live by," Melara said. "I think everyone in this army is living by that expression….whether the realize it or not."

Ω

Tywin Lannister was livid.

Anger wasn't a strange emotion to him, he had possessed a simmering anger for as long as he could remember ever since Tyrion had come into the world and caused the death of his beloved Joanna.

He was angry when Aerys Targaryen had refused his offer of marriage to give his daughter to his son. He was angry when that same king had appointed his eldest son and heir to the Kingsguard thus stemming the future of Casterly Rock to rest on the shoulders of one useless dwarf.

He was angry when his foolish grandson had called for the head of Ned Stark sparking a war that he now had to fight.

He was angry when his same son and heir had managed to get himself captured by the young wolf's army and was now a prisoner who they might execute at any time.

But now…now he was beyond apoplectic.

After their immediate success at Blackwater and the knowledge that they had taken their power back from Stannis Baratheon came the news that the Greyjoys had attacked Casterly Rock and laid waste to Lannisport, burning pillaging and reeving.

Tywin had immediately ordered the mobilization of his army to depart from the capital and march to Casterly Rock and send the Krakens back to their islands once and for all.

And then came the news that Sansa Stark had disappeared sometime in the night.

Not only was that bewildering and confusing but it was rage inducing as well. How had she done it?

He had thought he had bought and paid for every person living in the keep. His first thought was that Varys or Baelish had helped her escape, Varys to bring some sort of peace to the realm and move along the war or Baelish because of the man's strange connection to Catelyn Stark.

But both of them seemed just as bewildered and confused as he was. In fact Baelish seemed almost angry about her disappearance in a way.

What was also confusing was the fact that after Renly Baratheon had died under mysterious circumstances, Loras and Margaery Tyrell were recalled to Highgarden where their oaf of a father Mace Tyrell had waited for them.

Tywin had expected the Tyrells to perhaps pick a side in the war, whether it was his or the young wolf's. He had been planning to write a letter to Mace Tyrell with the promise of a queenship for his daughter Margaery in exchange for their support in the war.

It had seemed an almost full proof plan….until something happened that he hadn't been expecting.

Before the raven had been sent, word had come from Highgarden that Mace Tyrell had died suddenly. The maesters were calling it heart failure from all the rich food and wine that the fat flower liked to eat.

It hadn't mattered, but he was dead and that meant that Willas Tyrell his eldest son had taken over.

Tywin didn't know Willas Tyrell as he had Mace but from what he had heard the young man was of a quiet calculating nature and seemed more intelligent than his fat oaf of a father which did not work to Tywin's advantage.

It wasn't until the Tyrells had declared themselves neutral in the coming war that he gone from confused to being flabbergasted.

They weren't siding with his enemy, but they weren't siding with him either. This had Olenna Tyrell written all over it and Tywin was furious because the old woman was playing some game that he didn't yet know.

Tywin hated being confused and it seemed as the days went on the more confused he became.

How had the Stark girl escaped?

What game were the Tyrells playing?

Why had the Greyjoys suddenly risen from anonymity to attack Lannisport?

Why hadn't his son escaped yet?

It all amounted to too many questions and no answers and the more he thought about it the angrier he became.

Something had to be done or he was going to lose the war and he would forever be known as the man who lost the throne and his own seat to some jumped up krakens and a wolf pup who was barely out of boyhood.

And so in his pitched tent while marching to Casterly Rock he took up his quill and began writing two letters. They were desperate letters filled with trickery and deceit with the intent to shed as much blood as possible and stroke as many egos as possible.

They were both gambles but knowing how much these men craved a single taste of power they would be easy to manipulate.

If he played his cards right then perhaps he would be able to take care of the young wolf and his army as well as the Greyjoys in one fell swoop.

The tide to turn the war could begin with the single stroke of a pen.

So he began writing.

Ω

 **So now Robb knows the truth and his relationship with Melara will subtly change as a result. In the next chapter he and Melara will have a conversation about her plan of deceitfulness and they will begin to become more honest with each other. Also a wedding will be in the near future and we'll discover more of the motives of the Tyrells in not putting forth Margaery as a bride for Joffrey. I hope you guys like the chapter and don't forget to review!**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 _Gods there is so much to do._

Though he was young, many would say that Robb Stark had adjusted rather well to the reality of being a king. When he had been declared as such by his banner men, he had been reluctant to take on a role that he hadn't been sure he could fulfill.

Being a king meant far more responsibility than simply being the Lord of Winterfell. When the Trident had been added to his kingdom after he had liberated Riverrun his own proclaimed realm had swelled to far larger than he wanted or needed.

And he had been failing at it in some ways. If he had communicated clearly to his uncle that his forces should not attempt to engage with Gregor Clegane then perhaps the Lannister forces would have been detained in the Riverlands long enough to not have time to return to King's Landing and defeat Stannis Baratheon.

He had been angry with his uncle, but he had also been angry with himself for failing to see that the Riverlords would want revenge against Clegane for all the havoc he had wreaked in their lands.

As a result the lions had been in time to defend the throne which had led to the continue problem of how to defeat them.

And now his northern host and his river lords were all looking to him to lead, to make decisions that would win them the war and take vengeance from the Lannisters and finally lay his father to rest.

Justice…

Vengeance…

Retribution….

Power….

Everyone wanted something, including him and he had to figure out how all of their desires coincided.

At least things had been going well lately. The news about the Iron Fleet attacking all along the western half of Westeros was both concerning and surprising. Robb had been enraged to hear that the western half of the north was under attack from a man who wanted revenge from his father for the war that had taken place years ago but sacking the empty keeps along the coast was alarming enough.

Theon had wanted to take a reserve forced back to the north and send his father's army running but Robb had sharply forbid him. He had already dangled his friend in Balon Greyjoy's face and he didn't trust what the man might do to him now when Theon came to meet him on the opposite side of the war.

No, as much as he hated it, the Ironborn would have to wait.

He had been further surprised to learn that those same Ironborn had attacked Lannisport when Theon had returned with news that his father had refused the crown that had been offered.

What had led to the change of heart then?

Given the fact that Casterly Rock and the surrounding land was ripe with wealth and currently unoccupied by the Lannisters, it would be insane not to seize the jewel that it presented.

And it seemed Balon Greyjoy had thrown off the slough of idiocy that had surrounded him for all these years of plotting and muttering on the Seastone chair and finally ordered the production of something well…productive.

It didn't mean that he wasn't pleased to hear it…but the change of heart was concerning to Robb.

He didn't want to have to fight the Ironborn, as well as the Lannisters.

Now that Stannis Baratheon's army had been defeated and sent running from the capital, there were still three more kings playing the game. The longer this war dragged on, the antsier Robb became and the more eager he was to emerge the victor.

It all gave the appearance that the sack of the Westerlands was over and the lions were on the run not only to defend the crown, but at the same time to defend their own seat.

Things couldn't have been going better.

And then he had been sidelined with the knowledge that the woman he was slowly beginning to care, the woman who had such a fire in her pale green eyes that it prompted the quickening of his own heart, the woman who seemed to have a cure or a salve for every wound imaginable, the woman who wasn't afraid to tell him to his face when he was doing something wrong despite the fact that he was a king, that woman….had lied to him.

Her name was no more Talisa than his was Eddard.

Instead he had learned that her name was Melara…Melara Frey, the girl whom his mother had betrothed him to along with the greedy advice and gloating of Walder Frey in return for using their thrice damned bridge.

He had barely remembered the girl he was supposed to wed in order to obtain the support of the Lord of Crossing since they had begun sacking the Westerlands. He wasn't eager to marry someone he had never met before and who may or may not have had some of her father's less then desirable tendencies but he had agreed that for the sake of the war, it would have to be done.

It wasn't until he had met and spent time with Lady Talisa that he had begun to wonder whether or not a mistake had been made.

She was fiery, possessed grey principles and wasn't afraid to use her biting tongue and pushy personality to get where she wanted to go in life.

And apparently where she had wanted to go was here.

But he couldn't help but wonder how she had done it. Walder Frey didn't seem the type of man to let the future Queen in the North go out of his sight for more than a few hours and yet here she was for weeks.

How had she done it?

No, there was more going on here than just her brothers and Robb had a mind to storm over there and find out what it was.

It wasn't as if he was angry per se…more frustrated, confused and a little bewildered. What game was she playing when she had come?

Robb wondered for a moment whether or not she had come here to have a look at him, see what person she would be marrying and whether or not she liked what she saw.

But he couldn't even have been angry about that either because he would have wanted to do the same bloody thing!

She had been right when they had spoken earlier and she had said that as a woman no one really took her opinion seriously and he could imagine that being no truer than in the Twins.

His mother had told him that when she had stopped at the Twins to come to the agreement with Walder Frey that the man had a personality that made her skin crawl and she couldn't wait to leave.

At that moment he wondered what sort of woman he would be marrying if the man's daughter was anything like Old Walder.

Robb knew that a marriage would have been arranged for him regardless of whether or not his father had died and he was still the heir to Winterfell. But he had had his parents' marriage to look at as an example for his entire life and while their marriage had been arranged, they had grown to love each other.

Was it so bad that that was something he wanted as well? He had hoped to be able to love his wife at some point and build a future in the north with her. Being betrothed to some daughter of the Lord of the Crossing was not what he had intended nor perhaps even wanted but here it was and it was happening.

And so he had resigned himself to that knowledge, told himself that whatever daughter he was to marry could not have been as bad Walder Frey and then he had hoped…and hoped….and hoped.

And then Lady Talisa had come along and blown whatever notions about quiet ladylike women he had had right out of the water with her tongue that was as sharp as steel and eyes that snapped at him instead of looking demurely at her feet like her sister Sansa would have done.

He couldn't deny that she was stunning but what made her even more appealing was the fact that she was so willing to help people and that she didn't care who they were, Stark or Lannister, man or woman, boy or girl. No one was beneath her notice or unworthy of her attention.

And he liked that….he liked that a lot.

So Robb found himself wanting to spend more time with her. He liked her sarcasm and her dry sense of humor, the fact that she could stare at a wound and laugh, making light enough of the situation that others felt as if they were going to be alright.

That was something that was needed when a war was being fought.

The more he got to know her, the more the knowledge of his own betrothal began to weigh on him and he wished his mother hadn't agreed to that contract and he was still free to marry the woman of his own choosing.

And as those thoughts had come to mind there was only the face of one woman who immediately followed them.

Bah! He hated this. He hated being confused and he hated being deceived. And both had happened.

But deep down, perhaps there was a hint of relief as well. Talisa and Melara were the same person. He would be marrying the woman he wanted and fulfilling the terms of the contract that his mother and Walder Frey had put in place.

Everyone was a winner in this situation. He would have the continued support of the Freys and he would be marrying the woman that he truly desired as opposed to some doe eyed stranger that was either as manipulative as her father or else wouldn't speak any louder than the whisper of the wind.

And yet he was still frustrated.

"Robb you have been pacing for the last half of an hour," Catelyn observed from her seat by the table in his tent. His mother's hands were on folded across her swelled stomach and Robb eyed her with concern.

Her time would be any week now and he knew he was taking a big risk bringing her any closer to the capital.

So he had decided he wasn't going to do it. Instead of leaving her in the keep of one of the former Lannister bannermen that he had captured, perhaps it was time to send her to Riverrun.

In fact, perhaps it was time for all of them to return to Riverrun. He would consolidate all of his forces along with his uncle's riverlords and once the armies were combined they could begin to march on King's Landing.

Robb paused for a moment to consider the matter of the wildfire used on Stannis Baratheon's forces in the battle of Blackwater for a moment. He couldn't be sure that the Imp didn't have another trick like that up his sleeve so he would need to be careful.

He had no desire to waste men's lives needlessly on trying to open one of the gates and having the Lannister forces rain arrows down upon their heads, picking them off one by one.

There had to be another way to do this. For the moment, the Lannisters were distracted by the krakens raiding Lannisport and he needed to seize the moment.

 _If only there was some way to be in two places at once,_ he thought to himself as he paced back and forth.

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing."

Robb glanced up and gave his mother a look that was half amused half irritated. "Unfortunately this is all I know to do right now."

"No it isn't," Catelyn Stark replied absently rubbing her belly. "You could go speak to her so you are not pacing like a caged direwolf."

Robb's only response was to let out a frustrated growl. Melara was not the sole reason for his discontent but at the same time he was having trouble processing the secrecy all the same.

Catelyn persisted. "I don't agree with what she has done, but it seems as if she has done it for a reason. And if she has inherited anything of Walder Frey abominable tendencies it is an unswerving devotion to family."

"Are you taking her side?" Robb asked.

"I am on no one's side my love, I am on the side of your happiness," Catelyn replied patiently and for a moment Robb wished he hadn't told her of Melara's confession.

Perhaps having outside opinions hadn't been such a good idea.

"I have seen you since her arrival and the way that the grimness has faded from your countenance somewhat. There is a slight spring in your step as well. I knew as soon as you told me about her after Oxcross that you were intrigued by her and wished to know more and I worried that if you were to ever see her again it might tempt you into doing something that you shouldn't. And then low and behold she showed up at the Crag again. I was alarmed when I learned that you asked her to stay among our army and act as a healer as I feared you would seek her out. And you did. That was when I knew I had to know her better and began to speak with her. She is a sharp young woman and she has an even sharper tongue. She was not overawed by the fact that you are a king and she gave the appearance of being low born. You never knew anything more than her first name and yet you were intrigued enough to continue getting to know her. She helped heal Sansa and your sister appears to have found a friend in her. I can see why your affection for her would have grown after that. And my worries only grew.

"But then after you sought her out one final time and she made her confession to you causing this pent up amount of energy. You don't seem angry, but you don't seem happy, merely frustrated. So what may I ask is going through your mind?"

Robb paused, surprised and annoyed that his mother had been able to pick up so much from him. He had had a million things to think of in the last few weeks and Talisa…Melara had only been one of them.

"I haven't decided how I feel yet mother," he said and Grey Wind who had been watching him whined loudly, sensing his unease. "After I got over the shock of the truth, a part of me began to wonder how on earth she came to be here. If this is Walder Frey's prize daughter whom he is intending to make the Queen in the North, wouldn't it suggest that he wouldn't let her out of his sight for fear of something happening to her? I don't think that that is possible. So how is she here?"

"That is something that you are going to have to ask her," Catelyn said calmly. "I cannot answer that."

Robb let out another frustrated growl and resumed his pacing. If he were to examine himself very closely he knew that he was relieved. However he was also a little worried that she had taken so long to tell him the truth. She had been here for weeks and had spoken with him numerous times on varying things and yet she had kept silent.

 _What sort of game was she playing hiding herself from me?_ He wondered. _Was she afraid I would send her back to the Twins if I knew who she was? No…Lady Talisa….Melara doesn't seem to be the sort of woman that would allow anyone to tell her what to do and that would include me. She wanted to be here for a reason and she stayed for a reason. I suppose I am a little worried that I will be marrying a woman who is inherently deceitful._

The thought that this might be true was disappointing and alarming to him and he ground his teeth together.

"Robb?"

The young king started and looked up to see his mother looking at him with concern. He sighed and waved off the worry with his hand. "I'm fine mother. There is far too much to focus on right now. There is a war to win."

Catelyn didn't appear happy with his decision but she nodded. "Very well. I do think it odd that the Tyrells have not joined the Lannisters in power. Olenna Tyrell has always been an ambitious woman and from what I have heard of Margaery Tyrell, she has always desired to be a queen just like your sister. Why they have not taken the opportunity to wed her to Joffrey seeing as how he is no longer betrothed to Sansa?"

"Because Willas Tyrell is not so much of a fool," Robb replied. "Given the information that Stannis Baratheon was able to leak to the rest of the realm after Father's death, the parentage of the royal children all across the Seven Kingdoms is being called into question. While Mace Tyrell would have seized the opportunity to give his daughter to that little shit Joffrey, Willas Tyrell strikes me as a shrewder individual. Also the trouble that Tywin Lannister has been facing both in the Riverlands and from the Greyjoys lend credence to the fact that the war is going badly for the lions. I don't think either Lord Willas or Lady Olenna would want to align themselves with the losing side by giving their prize daughter to a boy king who needs to have others fight his war for him."

"Do you think they will ally with us then?" Catelyn asked and her tone turned hopeful.

Robb cast a concerned eye over at his mother who was still rubbing her stomach. He could see how anxious she was for this war to be over and to return to Winterfell and he worried about her. Perhaps it was time to send her back to Riverrun while he carried on the campaign. She had been obstinately stubborn about staying with him through it all and for the life of him he did not know why.

"Perhaps," he said absently. "And if they do not I have a plan to ensure their support."

"You do?" Catelyn asked.

"Aye. I will pen a letter myself to Lady Olenna offering a marriage contract between House Stark and House Tyrell. Namely I will pursue the idea of wedding Sansa to Lord Willas."

"Are you certain of this?" Catelyn asked, her eyes wide. "Sansa has already been through enough and we still have no idea where Arya is. Do you think she will want to marry the Lord of Highgarden."

"I will speak to her," Robb promised. "The support of the Tyrells is key to winning this war and I cannot marry Lady Margaery in order to fulfill this. But they will receive a new Lady of Highgarden, something they may not be able to contest."

"I hope your optimism is warranted Robb," Catelyn said. "Your sister may not wish to marry so soon after all that has happened to her."

"Mother if there is anyone who would want to see the downfall of the Lannisters more than I do, it is Sansa. She more than anyone else suffered the most at Joffrey's hands and if marrying Willas Tyrell is the way to ensure that that bastard never harms another living soul I think she will be all for the idea."

It was hard to explain how he was so certain that his younger sister would take to the idea, but somehow Robb had a feeling deep in his gut that not only would Sansa agree to the idea of this marriage but that she would be happier for it. He had heard that Willas Tyrell was a kind man and far more capable than his father. And it would strengthen his claims as king if he had the Warden of the South backing him.

"I am certain mother," he said calmly. "Now I should speak to Sansa and then I have a letter to write."

Ω

In the meantime, Melara was having a hard time not being on edge.

Since she and Robb had parted some hours earlier, she had gone back to her tent, seen a few soldiers and done her best to keep herself busy and not think about the conversation that she knew was coming.

In that time, she had a feeling he was going to demand answers on how she was here, the deeper meaning behind the reason she had given him and whether or not her father was aware of her presence in the Stark army.

Although she had a feeling that he would already know the answer to that last question.

Her confession of the truth would not only complicate things from here on out with her future husband but the idea of telling him an even more important truth was becoming more and more inevitable.

Her magic was going to come to light sooner or later and she had been battling how to tell him since they had begun getting to know each other better. He deserved to know and if Sansa had taken it as well as she had, then what were the chances his reaction would be the same?

Still thinking in terms of her old house, Melara knew she had to expect the worst but at the same time hope for the vest. She knew Robb would react better to the knowledge of her magic than say her father would have but at the same time, that wasn't much to go on.

 _I'll need to return to the Twins soon and get some more ingredients if I'm going to continue making potions,_ she thought to herself.

As always when she wasn't sure what to do with herself, Melara resorted to potion making. It had been a habit that she had constantly indulged in when she was Pansy Parkinson, especially when something was upsetting. Gods she must have brewed enough to fill an apothecary when her parents informed her that they were switching sides in the war.

And now the fact that she was on edge was only adding to the desire to brew. But instead of making more moonstone potion, the brunette decided to try something somewhat difficult.

This time she was making Veritaserum.

It had been a challenging endeavor when she had had all the right ingredients but Melara was determined to try as a truth potion was always a necessary thing in the war.

Draco had never let her forget that Veritaserum and Felix Felicis were potions that she had had trouble brewing and the brunette had hated him for it more than she had liked him.

However, he wasn't here now so she wasn't going to listen to his nonsense even in her head and attempt to do it this time as it was more necessary now that it had been in the war against Voldemort.

Veritaserum was clear colorless and odorless and was indistinguishable from water which made it quite easy to slip in any drink without anyone noticing.

There were only a few slight problems when brewing it and Melara remembered her somewhat greasy professor telling her that if she wished to make it correctly, the potion must mature for the lunar phase which took a while and made it slightly more difficult to produce.

 _But I have a feeling we're going to need it to use on certain people by the end of the war,_ she thought grimly to herself as she stared at her cauldron.

Fortunately she had some of the ingredients now.

One of the ingredients that she didn't have however was vial of Ptolemy which she did not have and would need to supplement with something else.

As a result the potion would likely not be as strong as the true version but it would possess enough of the necessary ingredients to make people want to know the truth without knowing why or how to lie. She doubted it would be able to force them to tell the truth but it might make them want to.

She did have powdered moonstone but she would need to find an adder in order to cut off its tongue.

For a moment Melara wondered with a smirk what the Muggles around her would think if they knew she was putting the tongue of a snake in a potion she was making in order to help them.

 _Grey areas….grey areas everywhere._

She didn't know where on earth she was going to obtain Jobberknoll feathers though. _I very much doubt that if such a bird even exists in this world it would have the same name. But maybe there's a bird that's similar. Or….perhaps I could use weirwood leaves as a supplement. They are known to be a mysteriously and mythically magical substance. Maybe they would work._

The last ingredient was sopophorous beans and she also didn't know how she was going to get her hands on those.

But perhaps there was an apothecary nearby that she would be able to visit to obtain something similar.

After that it was simply a matter of taking the potion off the fire, stirring it and waiting for it to mature and then bottling it, which was the longest and most annoying part of the process.

Melara had just retrieved one of the vials of moonstones that she had crushed into powder to be used in other potions when she was interrupted.

There was the sound of footsteps outside of her tent and Melara glanced up to hear the sound of her brother's voice.

"Come!" she barked and when Perwyn strode in he raised an eyebrow at her tone. "Are you well sister?"

"I'm not sure yet," she replied as she held the vial of powdered moonstone up to the light. "I'm just assessing whether or not this needs to be crushed more."

Perwyn frowned and then sat down across from her. "How can you tell that?"

Melara uncorked the vial and poured a portion of the silvery white powder into her hand before bringing it close to his face. "The powder has to be as fine as snow with no distinguishable marks, blemishes or bumps in it. And as you can see from the few larger than normal bristles here that it needs to be ground a bit more."

Perwyn nodded but Melara got the feeling that her eldest brother didn't understand it at all. She smiled and poured the powder into the small wooden mortar she had taken from the Twins before inserting the pestle and beginning to grind.

Perwyn was silent for a moment as he watched her do this before clearing his throat. "I had been meaning to talk to you about something."

"If you are going to remind me of my obligation to tell Robb Stark the truth than there is no need," Melara said absently. "I already have."

"You have?"

She could see the tension visibly deflate from Wyn then and she frowned at him. "Yes, I told him earlier this morning."

"How did he take it?" Her brother asked.

Melara frowned at a clump of moonstone that for whatever reason was not grinding. "It's difficult to say. We haven't spoken since."

"Was he angry?" Wyn asked.

Melara sighed. "I don't really know. He seemed….shocked, confused. And there was a grim…intent behind his eyes, an intent to have every facet of the truth no matter how strange or unorthodox it was."

"You're going to tell him of your magic aren't you?" Wyn asked and she gave him a small smile. "I've dug myself in deep Wyn. I don't think I'm going to accomplish anymore by lying."

"No," her brother replied. "No you won't. But I am glad that you're now in the clear with him all the same. Robb Stark is a good man and it seems to be the sort of quality you need."

Melara raised an eyebrow at him, not sure if she should be offended at that. "What do you mean?"

Perwyn chuckled. "You have many wonderful qualities sweet sister but at the same time you have always been a little…rough around the edges, quick tempered and blunt.

And while that is something that is sometimes necessary, sometimes there is a need for temperament."

"Wyn, I'm not following you," Melara said somewhat impatiently as she eyed the moonstone powder with more intensity than was necessary.

"And that's exactly what I mean," her brother said forcing her to look up at him with narrowed jade eyes. "The way I think of you dear sister is like a sharp blade that is used to great effect and is very efficient. But there is always a time when it could be sharper. You and Robb Stark appear to be polar opposites and some part of me is certain that that will serve you well when you are married."

"You seem to be a fount of wisdom today Wyn," Melara said with a slight smile.

"I do have my moments," her older brother said with a smile. "Not all Freys are like father."

A dark look passed over his face but disappeared as quickly as it came and Melara narrowed her eyes slightly.

She knew Wyn disliked the way their father ran the Twins and liked even less the person he had become, but as one of the many sons of House Frey there wasn't much he could do about it unless all of the people who were born before him were suddenly wiped out.

And that was as likely to happen as the return of the Others.

"He's not going to be here forever," she said calmly to her brother.

"No," Perwyn said. "But the rest of his rabble before us will. And they are all the same as Father."

Something in his voice made the brunette look up at him and narrow her eyes. Not only did Wyn dislike their father with a passion, but she also knew he disliked much of the family that did occupy the Twins. She also knew he didn't trust anyone beyond her and the rest of their brothers and Roslin.  
Living at the Crossing you had to know who to trust and Wyn had only chosen the members who shared Bethany Rosby's blood.

Melara also knew he wanted to see the Twins become better than what their father had made it out to be. Wyn wanted power, but at the same time he didn't want it at the risk of his own family like old Walder did.

Her brother had a vision for the Twins that made Melara believe he would be a great lord someday if he was ever given his own keep or took one for himself.

"Have you ever thought about what you're going to do after the way?" she asked and he blinked at her. "Do you mean after we dispose of the Lannisters, hang their bones out on the walls of King's Landing for the crows to feast on and take back the north and the Riverlands for our own?"

Melara stared at him and then chuckled. "Aye, I suppose there's a lot there isn't there?"

"There is," Wyn said giving her a fond smile. "But it doesn't mean that I haven't thought of what I'll do if I survive."

"Don't say things like that!" Melara snapped at him.

Wyn raised an eyebrow at her. "Why? We can believe all we want that we're going to win but war is a thing of chances and it doesn't matter who has the most well thought out strategy, something can always happen which renders the strategy null."

Melara let a growl slip from between her teeth. "Over my dead body you'll be dying. In fact I may as well cast some protections on your armor in before we leave."

"I don't want you to exhaust yourself," Wyn said gently. "We both know what happens when you use too much magic."

"If it means you'll be safe I don't care if I am exhausted for the next ten years!" the brunette all but shouted, causing her brother to reel back in surprise. "My family is all I care about. You are going to survive this war…in fact everyone I care for is going to survive this war, Frey Stark it doesn't matter – "

The realization of what she had just said came over her all at once and the brunette fell silent, inwardly cursing herself and wondering how she could have been so stupid to voice that aloud.

As Pansy, she had had no problem spitting out whatever was on her mind without even thinking about it, but she had learned to temper that as she had grown older and it had all but disappeared as Melara Frey.

Merlin, she still remembered the time when she had been part of Draco Malfoy's posse and they had gone toe to toe with Ron, Potter and Granger.

Even after all this time, the annoying red head was the only one she could call by his first name. But perhaps that had been because she had been going to marry him.

Granger had become a good friend as had Potter, but she would always affectionately refer to them by their last names.

And she had no trouble saying last names now it seemed.

Wyn was giving her a searching look and she knew he had picked up on every word and hidden meaning that she had said.

"Stark?" he asked quietly and Melara remained stubbornly silent. She hated being vulnerable and it was something she had gone out of her way to avoid in her final years of school. Yeah she had acted like a lovesick fool around Draco Malfoy when they were younger but that was because it was expected of her and she didn't know how to handle her emotions. And then she had met someone like Ron who was all emotions all the time and she had had to be the steadying force in their relationship.

Now she was becoming like that emotional twelve year old again.

Merlin, what was happening to her?

"Sister," Wyn said quietly and still she ignored him. This was the last thing she wished to talk about right now and yet it seemed she had given her brother a perfect opportunity to do so.

Wyn sighed and leaned back in his chair before throwing the rest of the wine she had conjured for him straight down his throat and muttered a curse under his breath.

"Alright then."

She looked at him somewhat questioningly but after a moment he swallowed hard and braced his hand against the table, looking for all the world as if he were preparing himself for something.

"You've never struck me as the romantic type Mel," he said finally. "And you obviously don't wish to talk about this so I am going to. You don't need to say anything, you don't need to do anything and as soon as I say my piece, I will leave.

He paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "You are the most brittle person I have ever met. You're sarcastic, your blunt with a tinge of pride, you're honest to the point of being rude and you have no problem manipulating people to get your way."

He held up a hand to stop her when she opened her mouth to respond indignantly. "Let me finish. None of those are bad things. But you've been operating under those principles for so long that it stuns you to feel anything else than cynicism, sarcastic humor or narrow cunning. Which is why you refuse to talk about anything pertaining to feelings or emotions or anything else of that ilk."

Wyn paused again and rolled his eyes. "It's a wonder you and Roslin are related because romance and emotions are things she loves and things you gag at. Yet somehow you get along. Perhaps that's why you're warming to Stark. You're both polar opposites in every way. The king is honorable to a fault and you are conniving to a fault. He sees the world in a way that can be called black and white, good and evil and you see it in a way that is extremely grey."

"Are you going to get to the damn point Wyn?" Melara demanded. She didn't like when her brother used logic and wisdom to impress a point. The fact that he was talking about her and Robb Stark made this a million times worse as well.

She hated feeling vulnerable and with her barely thought out words, she had just ripped away her own armor to reveal the heart underneath.

"Oh and you're impatient too," Perwyn continued. "About almost everything, while it seems that the king possesses an infinite degree of patience."

"When did you become this introspective?" the brunette demanded.

"When you are the unremembered son in a sea of Freys, watching your family becomes sort of a habit," Wyn told her with a smile.

Melara tried to smile back at him but it came out as more of a grimace. There were many reasons why they disliked being Freys, however if they were going to discuss them they would need a lot more wine than they currently had.

"My point is," Wyn finally continued. "You may not like to be known as someone who cares. But you do and when you do, you do so fiercely. I don't think I've ever seen someone love as fiercely as you do. And that's not a bad thing. You may think it is, but it's not."

"Is that all?" Melara said quietly, staring at the moonstone powder in her hand as if she were daring it to burst into flames. Wyn didn't notice that the hand that was resting on her lap was trembling ever so slightly.

Sensing that she was feeling somewhat vulnerable right now, Wyn set his glass of wine back on the table and got up to leave. Before he exited the tent however, he moved over to her side of the table and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"You don't have to be so strong."

She barely registered the words he whispered into her dark hair before he strode quickly out of the tent.

With a shaking hand, the brunette poured the rest of the moonstone powder back into the bottle and corked it before setting it down on the table.

Determined not to think about what her brother and she had said, she got up and busied herself readying the basket for another trip into the woods.

It was time to return to the Twins and check on her sister and see about the plans and schemes of Walder Frey.

Maybe this time she should just stay there for good.

Ω

 _She was standing in a circle of large white trees.  
_

 _There was a sharp scent of earth and cut grass on the wind and she could see the gleam of crimson leaves blowing as a result of the wind.  
_

 _There was a large rock in the middle of the clearing that was as tall as her waist and like the rest of the trees it was a pure ivory as well.  
_

 _There was a strange rune carved into it, a rune which she wasn't able to read and didn't want to attempt as it looked quite complicated.  
_

 _Looking up at the sky, Melara could tell that a storm was coming as the clouds were a thick, fluffy dark grey and appeared to be full of rain.  
_

How the bloody hell did I get here? _She wondered to herself in bewilderment in between curses.  
_

 _The place possessed a nagging familiarity but for the life of the brunette she couldn't put her finger on where she had seen it all before.  
_

 _Then a rumbling sound met her ears and Melara was certain it wasn't the thunder over head. In a way it was quieter and much more purposeful than thunder which would simply rumble and crash with no rhythm. It was concentrated, subtle.  
_

 _It was a river.  
_

 _Frowning to herself, Melara focused herself and began to make her way through the trees towards what she thought might be the source of the sound.  
_

 _She had no idea why she was doing it, but something was compelling her, driving her forward with her having no idea why.  
_

 _She just knew she had to go.  
_

 _The longer that Melara walked the more tired she began to feel even though she was doing nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other.  
_

 _The trees seemed to be never ending and she was beginning to wonder if she had heard the rumble at all as it appeared to have faded. They all looked the same and for a_

 _moment the beautiful brunette wondered whether or not she had become lost.  
_

Damn it to the Seven Hells! _She cursed under her breath,_ Where the bloody hell am I? _  
_

 _Just then she looked up ahead and blinked in surprise to see a clearing in the trees. She blinked and allowed herself a small smile.  
_

 _Thank goodness, she was finally going to find her way out of this forest.  
_

 _But after a few more steps through hurried brambles and reaching thorns that somehow darted across her path, Melara found herself in a clearing with a strange looking_ _white rock in the centre with a rune carved into its face._

 _She blinked and then a moment later wanted to smack herself upside the head._ You went in circles you bloody idiot! _  
_

 _Just then another strange sound reached the brunette's ears and she came to a screeching halt just inside the trees of the clearing.  
_

 _It was a deep hum very different than the distant sounds of the river which had become very much less since she had set foot back in the clearing. It almost sounded as if a human was humming it.  
_

 _And another voice which was most certainly human joined it and Melara froze as this voice began to chant in a foreign alien tongue that she had never heard before. The voice was harsh and guttural, sounding almost northern in its intensity.  
_

 _She had no idea what it was saying but at the same time she seemed to think it spoke of snow and winter and dark times to come.  
_

 _Unconsciously the Frey girl shivered and looked about as if expecting a monster to come crashing from the underbrush.  
_

 _When she looked back at the clearing however, she reeled back in surprise to find that it was no longer empty and she was no longer alone.  
_

 _Instead it was filled with people dressed in long green robes. All of them were taller than she was and they had formed a circle surrounding the strange white rock so she could no longer see it and were swaying slowly back and forth as if they were moving in time with the wind which seemed to be blowing harder.  
_

 _It suddenly dawned on Melara then that they were the ones doing the chanting.  
_

What the bloody hell is going on here? _  
_

 _She slowly took a step forward, feeling an insane and compelling desire to get closer and know what was going on here.  
_

 _That was when she saw the trees and came to a screeching halt.  
_

 _There were faces carved in the trunks of those great white weirwood trees…all of them different but all of them in the exact same place. Everywhere she looked, each tree bore a strange and haunting visage.  
_

 _And all of those carved eyes were closed.  
_

What is this place? _  
_

 _Melara focused on the long green robes of the people in front of her and began to feel a tickle of memory in the back of her mind.  
_

 _Why did they look so familiar?  
_

 _And then she froze up once more when she found that she was sudden focus of a lot of attention.  
_

 _Cursing herself, Melara hadn't even realized that the chanting had come to a halt and that the clearing had gone eerily quiet as she turned back to them.  
_

 _And then one of them, the tallest it seemed slowly turned his head in her direction.  
_

 _Before the words of a spell could leap to her lips, he raised one of his hands and crooked a finger at her.  
_

 _She couldn't see a face beneath that green hood and that was more unnerving than anything else she could see, chanting aside.  
_

 _But that was all Melara had time to think about as in the next instant she was being dragged forward.  
_

 _ **Come to the Heart Tree. Open your eye.**_

 _The strange booming voice was entirely too familiar and as Melara came to a screeching halt before the tall man in the green robes, she remembered with a start that it was the same voice from her previous dream.  
_

 _But instead of being afraid, and cursing Granger's Gryffindor tendencies for rubbing off on her, Melara stared up into the shadowed and hooded face of the tall man, glaring at him.  
_

 _"And what the hell do you want?" she demanded. "Who even are you people? And why am I here?"  
_

 _There was nothing more annoying to her than being ignored and it had driven her crazy when they were still in school and Draco had pretended like she didn't exist. It was part of the reason why it had been so easy for her to give up on him.  
_

 _Whoever these people were, they seemed to be adept at ignoring people as well.  
_

 _Instead of answering her sharp questions, the man in green turned and pointed to one of the weirwood trees that was directly across from the strange rock.  
_

 _Melara looked between him and the tree in confusion. And then she almost reeled back in shock.  
_

 _The eyes….those strange eyes that were red with sap and always appeared to be watching whoever passed them were now all of a sudden open and staring at her.  
_

 _Just then the man in green clamped a hand down on her arm and she gave a surprise, attempting to wrench herself free.  
_

 _It did no good however as he seemed to possess a hideous strength and his grip was like iron.  
_

 _Melara stared up into his face then, or the place where his face should have been but which she could no longer see and then blinked, her breath catching in her throat.  
_

 _She could see no other features in the man's face but in the depths of that hood amongst the smoky shadows that concealed his face…she could see red orbs glowing there as well. They were like two crimson coals in his face.  
_

 _She opened her mouth to cry out, but found she had no voice with which to do so. In fact she couldn't move either as something about the man's grip on her arm prevented her from even twitching a muscle.  
_

 _Those eyes as red as blazing embers continued to burn in his shadowy face and moment later Melara felt like she herself were burning from the inside out.  
_

 _All of a sudden her limbs began to feel as heavy as lead and the images around the man in green began to blur.  
_

 _The burning worsened until it was all she was aware of and the chanting resumed…  
_

Melara came awake with a strangled cry in her bed and found the sheets twisted around her and her hands in fists about them.

Her heart was racing and she could practically feel it trying to force its way out of her chest as she sat there in her small cot.

She was panting too and for a moment her lungs couldn't take in enough air in order to be satisfied and she almost felt as if she were hyperventilating.

Melara closed her eyes and took several deep even breaths. It was a technique she had had to put into practice after the war and Daphne had been killed. There were times for weeks after the final battle had taken place that she would come awake screaming in her bed as she remembered watching her friend's lifeless blue eyes as she had struggled to get to her when she had been slaughtered by one of the gods damned Carrows.

In fact she had often cried herself to sleep many nights in a row, screamed her grief into her pillows and dug her nails so hard into her palms that she had drawn blood.

Much like what Sansa had done.

Perhaps that was how she could understand and empathize with the red head so well. She too had her own ways for dealing with grief, anxiety and anger.

Slowly she slid her legs over the side of the bed and rested her elbows on her knees, leaning down and burying her face in her hands with a groan.

Though the dream had been different this time it had not lost the potency of the first time.

If anything, it had in fact become more vivid, more real and more confusing than the other one.

Those people dressed all in green cloaks and hoods…who had they been and that clearing of weirwood trees that had a face carved in every one of their trunks…what had that been all about?

And just then a different memory from some of her lessons with the master when she was growing up in the Twins came back to her and her breath caught in her throat.

Even though she was of the South, Melara was from the Riverlands and had heard stories about the Isle of Faces.

It was a mysterious place where very few went to and only those who had questions and were brave enough or stupid enough to try journeyed.

Most didn't return.

Melara had heard mutters from her father that Prince Rhaegar had gone there before the tournament at Harrenhal where he had awarded the crown of flowers to Lyanna Stark.

No one knew what he had gone for but Melara knew that whatever it was it couldn't have been good.

Why…. _in the seven hells…._ was she dreaming about that place?

And those words….

 ** _Come to the Heart Tree….Open your eye…._**

That message had some hidden deeper meaning in it and Melara knew that it was going to bother her until she figured out what it all meant.

For a moment she was tempted to just get up and leave the tent, apparate back to the Twins and then somehow find a way to get to this mysterious isle without anyone knowing.

And then she wanted to slap herself upside the head for such ridiculous nonsense.

 _You don't even know how to get to that place!_ The brunette berated herself. _It's in the Riverlands, that's all you know and if what you've read about it being a place of magic is true….then you may have met some people here who are finally your match when it comes to the other aspect of your life. You can't just go running into this!_

Melara groaned again and lowered her face into her hands again, trying to get a grip on her confusion.

She had spent most of her early school years being confused when it came to people like Draco Malfoy and the last thing she wanted was to be confused here.

So she had tried not to. She hated her father but the fact that he was a Muggle had little to do with it.

Blood purity hadn't mattered much to her here, hell she had been friends with Granger before she had been thrown into this strange world after all so she could count on the fact that she had changed.

No, she hated Walder Frey because not only did he remind her of Argus Filch the annoying bitter squib that cleaned Hogwarts, but because he seemed to possess a desire to be more than what she knew him to be.

He was no powerful lord or ambitious player in the Game of Thrones like Tywin Lannister. He was in fact a weasel who fondled serving maids and spent far too much time thinking on the imagined slights he had suffered. She hated him because he was an idiot.

In fact he reminded her of all the stereotypes she had ever been told that Muggles were, filthy, rude animals who hated and would try to kill wizards with their weapons if they were given the opportunity.

 _It's probably a good thing that I didn't meet him in my first life otherwise I wouldn't have been friends with Granger. Walder Frey is the epitome of everything the Dark Lord claimed Muggles to be. Although now that I think of it, the old weasel might have fit in pretty well with the Death Eaters. He would have been willing to kill anyone in order to get to the top. I suppose in some ways this world isn't much different from the one that I left behind._

And then she remembered her dream and she snorted. No, in England they most certainly did not have magical trees with faces carved in their trunks and strange people in green would congregate beneath them to chant in their strange language.

She hoped that she wouldn't keep having that dream, but it wasn't as if it were a series of repeating events. Each dream seemed to be about that place but when she opened her inner eyes it appeared as if the night vision came in sequences.

Merlin only knew what she would see next.

And open her eye?

What on earth did that mean? Shouldn't it have been eyes?

 _None of this makes sense?_ Melara thought rubbing her eyes with her fists. _But then what the bloody hell does these days?_

She was just about to lie back down and attempt to see if she could find sleep again when the sound of large velvety paws on the grass outside of her tent met her ears.

The brunette only had a second to register what it was before a large shaggy head poked its way through the flap of her tent. Melara recognized the large yellow eyes of Grey Wind right away and she sat up as stiff as a board with her back ramrod straight.

Robb wasn't with him but she knew if the wolf was here than his master couldn't be too far behind.

Immediately she got to her feet and summoned her thick robe which was hanging on a hook across the tent. The garment flew through the air and into her outstretched hand.

Melara smirked at the large wolf who took her silence as an invitation and padded forward into the tent so he might sniff the brunette's hand.

"You won't tell anyone what you saw will you?" she asked quietly as she ran her hand lightly over the wolf's shaggy head. "I need to work up to telling a certain someone about _that._ "

She carefully got down on her knees and looked the large creature in the eyes. He appeared very calm and even playful as he leaned her large head into her hand like he was enjoying her touch.

"Everyone thinks you're dangerous but we know better don't we?" she asked softly still staring into the lamp like eyes. "When you want to like someone you will."

"Lady Melara."

The brunette barely controlled her start at the sound of the deep rumbling voice and it was with some reluctance that she looked up from the wolf to the person who had spoken.

Robb Stark was standing in the entrance to the tent watching her with those deep blue eyes of his. His dark hair was mused as if he too had been asleep not long ago though he was fully clothed. Even though he was not wearing armor but leathers he still wore his fur cloak which made him look more imposing.

Despite the fact that it was the middle of the night he appeared as calm and collected as if he had just come from a meeting with his lords.

She hoped that was a good sign.

Oddly enough there were no lines of tension in his handsome face and Melara was certain that there would be no argument.

She hoped.

Slowly she got to her feet, keeping her hand pressed into the fur on the top of Grey Wind's head. Perhaps it was for support or some other thing that she didn't know.

"Your grace," she said just as calmly and noted that his gaze upon her had not faltered.

"May I sit down?" he asked gesturing to the chair that was sitting beside the small table in the middle of the tent.

"Of course," she replied.

Slowly the king walked forward and almost cautiously sank down upon the chair before folding his hands in his lap. She could still feel his gaze on her and gritted her teeth. Ron had never had such an intense stare when he looked at her.

Melara had known he desired her but Robb's gaze was entirely different than her former red headed fiancé. Ron had possessed a goofy uncanny desire to constantly make her laugh and he had had appalling eating habits. He had a towering temper but so did she, it just manifested in different ways.

But with Robb…Melara was beginning to discover there were many things they didn't share in common…and that made her a little worried.

His stubborn honor, to do the right thing because it was the right thing was something she was going to need to work on. Rightness was a good thing, a necessary thing. But there were times when it needed to give way to efficiency and pragmatism.

Not everyone was as honorable as the late Lord Eddard Stark.

"You look pensive," she observed and Robb surprised her slightly by snorting although it sounded more like a laugh. "It seems that there are even more things that require my attention lately."

"No one ever said being a king was simple," Melara observed.

"Nay," he replied. "They did not."

"Have you received any more news?" she asked.

"Too much," the king replied and ran a hand through his dark curls. "Sometimes I feel as if all I do is read and write letters."

"May I ask what you've heard?" Melara asked.

She was surprised when Robb reached inside the folds of his cloak and brought out a piece of parchment before placing it on the table and sliding it over with his fingers to her.

Cautiously the brunette reached over and picked it up. She glanced at the seal for a moment and then blinked in surprise when she noticed the telltale sigil of House Lannister pressed into the parchment.

Frowning she opened the folded paper and scanned the page quickly.

It didn't take her long to reach the most important parts.

Her eyes snapped up to his only to find that he was watching her closely once again. "Tywin Lannister is suing for peace."

It was a statement of fact not a question and Robb nodded before taking up the decanter of wine on the table and filling two goblets that were sitting nearby.

"So it would seem," Robb replied before raising the glass to his lips and taking a long sipped.

Melara eyed her betrothed. "You don't seem pleased. It would seem he might agree to the separation of the North and the Trident from the rest of the realm."

"Perhaps," Robb replied. "Continue reading to the end however."

She did so and then blinked in surprise when she saw that the Old Lion wished to meet to discuss terms and Riverrun seemed to be the place of his choosing.

"This complicates things," she said when she finished.

Robb chuckled darkly and took a long draw on the wine glass. "Aye. There are merits to saying yes and no. My bannermen are weary of this war and the separation of the North and the Trident is something that they wanted. I would no doubt need to return the Kingslayer to the Lannisters and agree to not continue to pursue retribution however."

"Is that something you wish to do?" Melara asked.

Robb's dark blue eyes appeared very deep. "I thought it was, now I am not so sure. Is revenge really a reason to continue to lead men into battle knowing that their death if I refuse will be on my hands? What would my father have done?"

"That's a good question," Melara asked. "But I didn't know your father so I can't answer that."

Robb chuckled darkly again. "All my father ever wanted was peace. He never wanted to leave his lands and go south to serve the king. In the end loyalty was what got him killed. Trying to take the throne so that he might pass it to Stannis Baratheon was what got him killed."

"Are you asking me if you are like your father?"

"Perhaps I am simply asking when enough is enough," her betrothed replied and took another draw from the glass as Melara cautiously sipped her own drink.  
Grey Wind was lying between the feet of the young couple and was calmly looking back and forth between them. Absently Melara reached a hand down and scratched behind his ears, eliciting a slight hum of satisfaction from the large creeper.

"I am sending my mother and my sister back to Riverrun regardless," Robb said finally. "My mother's time is fast approaching and if something were to happen now…I won't lose any more family."

"Very well," Melara said. Inwardly she agreed with that choice. She just hoped Lady Catelyn would.

"Will you be returning to the Twins then?" he asked and she narrowed her eyes at him slightly.

"I was not planning on it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Lord Walder does not know you are here then?"

Melara gave a bitter laugh. "The man is barely aware of how many children he has, I doubt he will notice if one of them goes missing."

"How does he not know that you are here?" Robb asked.

"No," she replied.

"How?" he asked. "His daughter is to be the future Queen in the North. Wouldn't it be his business to know about your whereabouts at all times?"

Melara was beginning to become irritated. What sort of game was he playing?

"As I said your grace," she said finally. "My father hardly notices what his children do."

Robb didn't seem inclined to give up on his questions however. "And for that matter, how did you come to be here? There aren't many healers in this army and I feel as if I would notice if there was a woman riding amongst our party."

"I have my ways of passing beneath people's notice your grace."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Have you always been this secretive? Or has it only been in the last little while since you told me who you really were?"

Melara felt her irritation spike and she swallowed down a sharp retort. "Very well your grace, what would you like me to tell you? That my father cares nothing for his children in light of his legacy? That my chances to help people namely my brothers were so limited in the Twins that I had to find some way of escape? Or perhaps to my father all I am is a glorified trophy and that I needed some sort of escape? I didn't grow up in a family like yours. My father is a man who is ambitious and greedy and as soon as your army needed the use of our bridge my father saw an opportunity to advance the Frey name, namely to marry me off as he has been looking to do since I was three and ten."

She paused here for a moment and took a long draught of the wine. "I was always his gods damn prize. I often told you that women have very little say in their own lives in this land. This was one of the few choices that I did possess. Coming to Oxcross to see my brothers was my only intention. You were certainly not what factored into the decision to go your grace."

They both fell silent after that, the sound of her impassioned words ringing about the tent and in their minds.

Robb had been watching her intently as she spoke and had barely taken his eyes from her since he entered. Finally he sighed.

"I'm not angry," he said finally. "Stunned perhaps and concerned. But I am not angry. In fact I think I am more relieved than anything else."

With those words Melara released a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. She was gladder than she realized that he had taken this so well. And then she frowned. "Relieved? Why would you be relieved?"

Robb's gaze seemed to become even more intense than before and she felt a heat on her skin and something stirred in the pit of her stomach at the almost…hungry look in his eyes.

"Do you not know?" he asked finally and the stir of those rumbled words as they passed over nearly succeeded in causing her to shiver.

She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. Merlin…no one…not even Ron had ever looked at her with such raw desire in their eyes and the brunette found the physical side of her responding no matter how many times she told it to shut up. His blue eyes fairly blazed with a strange fire as he looked at her and she felt goosebumps rise on the back of her arms.

Instead of looking at him though she glared down at her hands which were clenched together in order to get out her next words.

"I….I had wondered," she said finally and cursed herself for the words came out sounding slightly broken. "But I didn't hope because I knew I would need to tell you the truth first."

Robb had an uncanny way of looking at her that made her feel as if she were the only person in existence. It was a quality about him that was remarkably appealing.

She looked up at him then and was shocked to see a sort of relief enter his eyes as well, like he had been hoping she would say those words.

Melara could feel the heat begin to rise in her again and thanked Merlin that she had only lit one candle in the tent which had been charmed to burn while she was still asleep but not run down. This way he wouldn't be able to see her as well or the pink color that was no doubt in her cheeks nor the desire that she was certain was in her own eyes.

"It seems we are in agreement then," Robb said somewhat softly a small smile on his lips and Melara took a deep breath. "We are."

"If that is the case than perhaps you should return to the Twins before your father does realize you missing," Robb suggested. "I certainly hope you will be able to account for the weeks of travel to him upon your return. I would hate to have to deal harshly with one of my sworn lords for harming you."

There was warmth in his voice but also deadly promise and Melara thrilled a little at the fact that perhaps this secret would not be the cause of a set back in their relationship.

Perhaps it would help them grow.

It was then that she remembered one more secret she still had left to tell and nearly flinched. It seemed the night was not over yet.

The beautiful brunette took a deep breath and then decided that now was the time. The hour for secrets had passed.

"It won't take me weeks to return to the Twins your grace," she replied. "In fact I can return there right now without traveling by horse at all."

She saw Robb's eyes narrow at her in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"There is a reason I am able to get from place to place so quickly," she said to him, mentally bracing herself for the word that was coming.

"And that is how?" her betrothed asked.

Melara clenched her hands tight in her lap but made no other movement when she said her next words.

"It's quite simple your grace. I possess magic."

Ω

 **Don't worry...things aren't always as they appear. They never are with A Song of Ice and Fire. Don't forget to review and happy reading everyone!**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Walder Frey may have been called many things but the quality of being lazy was not one of them.

He had always aspired to be greater than simply a bannerman of the Tullys and so he had spent the entirety of his adult life trying to make his name and family bigger than it was.

House Frey was one of the greatest of the minor houses and had been an integral part of the Young Wolf's war effort. They could field three thousand foot soldiers and quite a good deal of mounted cavalry. They had three lesser houses sworn to them which was somewhat rare for a minor house and something the old man took pride in.

In this way Old Walder had been able to raise his house from anonymity and he was very self-satisfied with his efforts.

Part of the reason he had been able to extend his name for as far and as long as he had were his many children. While House Frey may have been hampered by the changing political times against their ability to rise higher than the Tullys, lack of offspring was never something that they suffered from.

There were times when Old Walder lost count of how many children he had, how many men and women inhabited this hall and how many grandchildren he had. He had sired over a hundred offspring with his numerous wives over the decades and he was a firm believer in family and in loyalty. The more children he had the more opportunities to achieve greatness for his house.

However, instead of procuring land and titles and knighthoods for themselves, all his pathetic offspring had done was try and jockey for his favor in order to gain some sort of power for themselves at the Twins.

His heir Stevron was dead and now that there was blood in the water, the sharks were moving in for a piece of the meat after he died.

Well he wasn't dead yet and he would be damned if he left the Twins to any number of these fools.

His eldest son Perwyn by Bethany Rosby had potential but he was a little too noble for Walder's liking. You couldn't accomplish anything in this world unless you got your hands dirty. And Perwyn hadn't done enough of that yet to make Walder completely convinced that he was ready for his seat.

As for the rest of them…almost all of them lacked perspective and were idiots. His elder sons frequented brothels instead of trying to win land and titles for themselves. Some of them were religious idiots who were more interested in the lofty thoughts of the gods and kowtowing to the septons to think for themselves.

And then there were a few like his son Willamen who were more interested in healing and adding more links to his chain.

Bah! The fools!

They were all soft idiots who couldn't see beyond the thoughts of their own mind or their own pleasure for that matter.

He huffed to himself and ran a hand over his whiskered face. Did they really think that something as foolish as naming their children after him was going to endear them to him? Any of them?

Walda was a heavyset woman whom he had been going through marriage agreements for before finally settling on Roose Bolton, one of the bannermen of Robb Stark.

He would have preferred someone higher up on the hierarchy of lords but marrying her to one of the king's bannermen was as good a prospect as any. He just wished she was a more attractive prospect.

Sometimes it baffled and delighted him that he had done so much for the Frey name through the production of his offspring and other times it made him want to pull out what was left of his hair.

Most of his older sons and grandsons were damn morons. The future of House Frey didn't exist to him and they thought as long as he was alive they would have his protection.

The fools!

They were disgraces, they considered the gains and not the losses, the possibility of success and not the prospect of failure. He had given them everything and they had squandered it all.

His daughters weren't much better, bloody fools the lot of them. They spent all their days picking fights with one another and trying to outdo each other in who was the most clever when in reality they were all idiots.

Numerous bastards of his had shown up at the Twins and thinking he could make advantageous matches for them, he had grudgingly taken them in. Most however were jealous vindictive little harpies however and wasted their days envying the accomplishments of the few of his other children who had it in them to accomplish anything.

And speaking of accomplishments, he was quite pleased with his latest endeavor at furthering the Frey name. His eldest daughter by Bethany Rosby was soon to be made a queen, something which galled her sisters but they didn't have the looks to pull it off.

As soon as Melara was ten he knew she would be a beauty and he would need to think long and hard on a match for her because all those highborn nobles were idiots when it came to looks.

Melara would be his ticket to power. His grandchildren would rule the north and the Trident one day.

Or perhaps all of Westeros if the gods were good.

Melara had the looks to entice any man and he often wondered where she had gotten such beauty. Her mother's eyes were a hazel color but hers were a bright jade green.

He was forced to conclude it had come from some distant ancestor.

He had wondered a few times over the years if she was even his but had repelled the thought immediately. She had the sharp Frey features but on her with her hair and eyes, they were striking rather than weasel like as they looked on many of his daughters.

But no matter, she was the best looking Frey daughter he had, which was the cause of much jealousy among the others. She would have the best match he could make for her.

Old Walder had wanted to praise the gods if he believed in them for the day that Catelyn Stark had come to request the use of their bridge so her son's army could cross over.

He had thought of what he might be able to get out of the Frey's involvement in the war and immediately thought of Melara for the young wolf.

He could hardly believe his luck when Lady Stark had agreed.

His daughter had not rejoiced at the news, but she hadn't been defiant about it either. She had remained calm, taking the situation in and then simply nodded.

Though it hardly mattered what she thought. She would do her duty to her family like a good girl.

There were times when he did wonder about her though. Melara had a wicked tongue that she had often times turned on her siblings, reducing some of the weak among them to cowering wrecks.

And he had laughed to see it. No wife of his had ever had a tongue like that and when she turned it on some of his sons like Black Walder in his moments of idiocy it was an amusing thing to watch.

Walder had had a feeling she was going to be a handful when she was born, but at least she wasn't a damn silly fool like the rest of his lot, Roslin among them.

How the gods must have cursed him for having a daughter that was sickly and spent nearly all of her days bedridden. Disgusted by the girls' weakness, Walder had chosen to pretend that she didn't exist.

He wondered what he was going to do with Roslin. No man wanted a weak wife who may not have been able to bear his children.

And that was what he suffered from, weak sons and idiot daughters.

At least Melara was somewhat worth her salt. Her wedding would be soon enough depending on how events were played and one way or another, his grandchildren would inherit a crown.

He just needed to decide which one.

A letter had come earlier that might change his outlook on which direction their family should go in. They were at a cross roads right now. At worst his descendants would rule over half of Westeros and at best, they would have dominion over all of the realm.

He was nothing if not a man who looked for equal opportunity and here was as big an opportunity as he was ever going to get.  
When one of his ancestors had asked for the hand of Rhaenyra Targaryen centuries before he had been laughed at and mocked for thinking a man from a lowly house would be able to take the hand of a princess.

And now the times had changed, but now that crown was being offered to him instead of the other way around.

But the smart decision to make for their family was a little more complicated. In the deepest recesses of his mind, he feared rejecting one side because of what might happen if that side were to win.

Eliminating their house like the Reynes and the Tarbecks would be a priority then for their disobedience and treason.

That couldn't be allowed to happen.

If the old lion was proposing something of this magnitude, then Walder knew he had reason enough to believe that it would succeed.

He would be a fool if he were to refuse an opportunity like this.

Even now the krakens had been driven off from Lannisport which was a credit to how much more experience the old lion had than the young wolf. The man had run the realm for twenty years while Aerys Targaryen had descended into madness. His plans had always come to fruition.

Did he want to be on the side of a man who knew how to rule and had a dynasty on the only throne of Westeros?

Or on the side of a man barely out of boyhood who was currently fighting for his right to wear the crown?

A man with a plan for the future….or a wolf pup out for revenge?

Either way his daughter would wear a crown…but there was far more power to be gained as being the queen of Westeros than the queen of the north and the trident.

And then he knew that his decision was made.

The Lord of the Crossing smile before tossing the letter into the fireplace of his solar and watched as the flames burned the parchment to ash.

Then he turned back to his desk and eyed the moon high in the sky outside the window. It was early enough but getting later.

Then he smoothed out a fresh sheet of parchment and picked up a quill before dipping it into the ink pot and putting feather to paper.

He would be getting no sleep on this night.

Ω

Watching the expressions on Robb's face was sometimes interesting. He had a very expressive face when he wasn't dealing with nobles and his lords, so to watch him when he was genuinely surprised was an amusing thing.

As they sat there in her tent in the dead of night, Melara watched her betrothed's face which a small smile on her own.

He started off blinking for a moment as if he were processing what she had said. Then he opened his mouth like he was going to ask a question and closed it after a second like he had thought better of it.

This continued for almost half a minute before he shut his mouth entirely.

Then he narrowed his eyes as if he wasn't entirely certain he believed her and kept them that way until she felt pressed to say something and end the thunderous and amusing silence that had gathered between them in the tent.

"You seem bewildered your grace," she said raising her glass of wine and taking a measured sip from it.

Even though she was the picture of ease and confidence, Melara remained on her guard. She hadn't had a lot of practice revealing her magic to muggles and the last group she had told were her brothers. She had told them all at the same time just so she wouldn't' have to repeat herself and recalled that they hadn't believed her until she had waved her hand and caused Perwyn's sword to come flying off the wall into his hands.

No one had doubted her after that.

But even though they had accepted her strange powers because she was their sister and thus hadn't had much of a choice in the matter, they had been a little wary at first because of what it meant.

Magic was seen as heresy in the south and the septons and septas spoke out very strongly against all who practiced it because only the gods were supposed to have power over man. Having any sort of power other than that of will and political might labelled someone as a heretic and was grounds of exile or burning.

The religion of the north was hated and feared because it was mysterious and magic was a part of its ancient past…especially with such stories as giants, wargs, the Children of the Forest and most commonly, the Others.

While spoken of with rolled eyes and scoffing tones here in the south, Melara found the men of the north more readily believed in such things even though the stories of them occurring were thousands of years ago.

The First Men were more readily able to believe in magic than those who claimed to be of Andal descent.

That was her one bargaining chip ensuring that Robb would take the news of her powers well.

At this point however, he seemed to have lost his ability to speak.

He finally ended the long silence that had lingered after her question with the most diplomatic answer possible.

"What?" he finally managed and Melara wasn't certain if she wanted to laugh or roll her eyes.

"You're not a stranger to the concept of magic are you?" she asked with almost scoffing tone in her voice. "Surely you of the First Men are aware of tales of magic and sorcery that come out of the north."

He seemed to recover himself then but his eyes were still slightly narrowed. "Of course I have. Though after thousands of year in which magic has been highly mysterious and only suspected of possession by a select few, you can hardly blame me for being slightly incredulous. When I think of magic now, I think of the Targaryen dragons or perhaps those red priests and priestesses from Asshai who claim to have magic but suggest that the way it is to be obtained by burning people alive."

 _Merlin, did the muggles have similar stories about what magic did when I was back in England?_ Melara thought to herself. _No wonder the statute of secrecy was put in place. Muggles would probably hate and fear the idea of us._

It was an unsettling thought and a reminder of how her magic might be treated with as much caution here as it would have in Muggle England.

But then…Muggles didn't really have much defense against her…at least here.

Perhaps that was why they treated magic with wariness.

"Well you can rest assured that I don't adhere to that sort of nonsense," she said and Robb nodded though still looking cautious.

"And when you say magic," he said. "That is sort of a broad term. Raising the dead could be considered magic, seeing the future could be considered magic, turning invisible, flying, changing your shape all of those things could be considered magic, so what exactly is it that you claim to be able to do?"

Melara chuckled. "While I can't adhere to all of the things you just listed I can lay claim to a few."

His eyebrows rose and she figured she had better give him a demonstration. She looked about the tent for the most painless way to demonstrate her abilities. The brunette didn't really want to shock him with something elaborate and something she had learned as a Slytherin was that less was indeed more in some cases.

So when her eyes landed upon the decanter of wine between them, she decided to so something simple.

And so upon focusing on this course, she whispered the words for the levitation charm under her breath and then watched calmly as the decanter rose into the air.

Once it had reached a suitable height, she turned her attention to the young wolf in front of her was surprisingly wasn't looked as shell shocked as she thought he might have.

He was watching the decanter closely and after a moment passed his hand above and around it as if wondering if he might learn what was keeping it in the air. His eyes were entirely focused and there seemed to be no negative emotion emanating from him, only a calm surprise and disbelief.

His hand moved slowly as he felt about the air around the decanter. After a moment Melara realized what he was doing. She had seen it in the Muggle movies that Granger had shown her once.

He was searching for some sort of energy that was being used to keep the decanter afloat and the fact that he couldn't find it only seemed to further contribute to his surprise.

"Incredible," he murmured.

Melara smirked but it was more borne out of relief than confidence and slowly lowered the decanter back to the table.

Hesitantly, Robb reached over and picked it up , weighing it in his hand for a second before his expression cleared and he set it back on the table.

Melara couldn't resist a quip. "Is that enough of a demonstration for you your grace?"

He looked up at her then and she was shocked to see the corner of his mouth pull upwards very slightly as if he wanted to smile but controlled himself at the last minute.

"It will do for the present," he replied and she frowned. That seemed a little too easy.

"Forgive me," she said. "But you're taking this remarkably well. I know the idea of magic isn't a new entity or even new to you perhaps…but the idea of someone practicing it in real life surely is."

Robb sat back in his chair and folded his hands across his chest, almost as if he were preparing himself for sleep.

"I find after meeting you my lady that I am becoming all too used to surprises," he said. "Rest assured that I am still shocked but it is beginning to rapidly wane in light of a few things."

"And those things are?" the brunette asked narrowing her eyes.

"The first is that in some ways you already made me accustomed to the idea of magic when you came into this camp and brought the moonstone potion with you. When you were describing how it worked to me, you mentioned the word magic in your explanation. I was the first recipient of it and even I was amazed at how fast my wound too to heal under the application of those tiny pearls. The marks on my sister's hands have also healed as a result. All of this has made me slightly more accustomed to the idea.

"Now I will admit to being more surprised than usual when you told me the truth but after hiding who you were from me, I think I've become somewhat used to surprises."

At that moment Melara made it a point in her own mind to never underestimate the king again.

 _I knew from the moment I saw him that Robb Stark was a Gryffindor,_ she thought to herself. _And even though I was engaged to one I was still worried about how I was going to have my hands full with him. Perhaps he's more astute than even I realized._

She glanced down at Grey Wind who was now looking up at her, his lamp like yellow eyes large and intently staring into her jade ones.

And then something came to her…a story from the Age of Heroes that she had read a long time ago in the library of the Twins about the mysticism surrounding the Starks and the north in general.

Torrhen Stark, the last King in the North had led his army against Aegon Targaryen only to be met with the man's three dragons. From there he had bent the knee to save his people from slaughter and was given the title of the King who Knelt.

But even further back than that, Melara remembered reading about how Torrhen Stark was a fierce leader in battle, dangerous with the Valyrian steel sword Ice and a terror to his enemies. She recalled the passages about him being as ferocious as a direwolf in war and how the small folk had whispered that he could transform into a wolf himself if he wanted.

Skin changer they called him….wolf king….

If he ahd been an Animagus….the terminology she remembered from her old world than magic was not dead here and the ability to perform it might have manifested in Starks descended from Torrhen.

It was an interesting idea to say the least.

But she decided not to bring the idea up now lest it not be true and she risk embarrassment.

So instead she decided to lead with a question. "I fear I may have ruined your propensity for surprises your grace."

He snorted slightly. "I believe you have. But it is good timing I suppose."

"In what way?" she asked with a frown.

Robb's calm expression faded away and was replaced with a far off look of memory that told her he was looking into the past.

"Before…Before I called the banners and rode south," he began. "My brother Bran had awakened from his fall and he seemed….different."

"Different how?" Melara asked.

"In the sort of way that he had dreams and told me about them, ravens speaking with him, flying through the air and seeing through the eyes of his dire wolf. I dismissed them as only dreams before we came south but after several battles and Riverrun was freed…something strange happened to me as well."

Melara nodded cautiously. "And this strange thing was?"

Robb sighed and leaned forward on the table, folding his hands and placing them atop the surface.

"I began to have dreams of my own," he said and his voice lowered exponentially as if he didn't want anyone outside the tent to hear what was being said. "The night after I was crowned King of the Trident I lay down upon my bed and closed my eyes. But when I opened them again, I was not in my chamber. It seemed to be night but I was running through a godswood that was oddly familiar. It didn't take me long to realize it was the godswood of Winterfell.

"For some reason I was also very close to the ground and my breathing sounded loud in my ears. There was this odd growling noise which I didn't know the source of. I was moving much faster than I should have been and I had the strangest feeling that I was running on all fours rather than two."

The hairs on the back of Melara's arms seemed to stand on end at this omission.

"And then?" she asked.

Robb seemed to become even quieter as he leaned forward further upon the table. "And then it was as if a silvery patch of moonlight appeared in front of me. The closer I drew to it, it seemed as if it were a pool of water other than the light of the moon. I came to a stop in front of it, nearly sliding into its edge. It was only then that I was able to look down and reeled back in surprise."

"What did you see?" the brunette asked.

Robb glanced to the left and to the right as if he was worried someone would be listening in before he answered. "Instead of hands beneath me…there were paws on the ground where my feet should have been. I bolted the rest of the way to the pool and looked down into it only to be confronted with a face similar to Grey Wind's looking back at me. In the dream I had somehow transformed into a direwolf. The last thing I remember is that the night air was suddenly filled with the sound of wolves howling…becoming louder and louder all the time. And it filled me with dread. It was almost as if they were sending a warning. I awakened then in a cold sweat having no idea what it meant.

"But this was only the first type of dream that I had. The next one was one in which I think I was actually seeing through the eyes of Grey Wind."

This information brought the stunning brunette sitting all the way up in her seat. "How do you know?"

Robb looked down at the large wolf at his feet and heaved a sigh. "Grey Wind normally sleeps by the hearth of the fire in my chambers. And when I opened my eyes in the dream I was lying on the floor by the hearth. Upon getting to my feet I realized I was in the wrong spot and walked over to the bed. But it was then that I saw myself lying in the same bed in which I had fallen asleep. But I…the me that was lying in the bed that was….had its eyes open….and they were stark white as if I had gone blind."

Melara was silent for a long time, her mind racing through the implications of what this dream could mean and only landing upon one or two options that might have held water.

"Have you had these dreams often since?" she asked.

"At least once or twice a week since Riverrun," her betrothed replied.

Melara sat back in her chair and resting her chin atop her fist, eyes narrowed as she mused.

"You look pensive my lady," Robb observed. "What are you thinking?"

The brunette sighed and glanced down at Grey Wind who was looking at her with his large intelligent eyes. "I am thinking a few things to be perfectly honest with you your grace."

"And those are?"

"The first is that the concept of magic may not be as extinct as people think. It is obviously very active in both the north and the Trident which is a strange coincidence. The second is that the Starks have a legacy that goes beyond Bran the Builder and that of the First Men…a history of magic."

Robb got a thoughtful look on his face. "I do recall the stories of my nurse when I was a boy telling me stories of the ancient Starks, some of whom were wargs…men who dreamed dreams and saw through the eyes of creatures. But since….since Torrhen Stark I believe the ability has never been seen again."

"And now it has," Melara murmured. "And though it is different than mine…it appears you have a sort of magic that is unique to you all the same."

Robb leaned back in his chair and appeared overwhelmed for a moment. "This is a great deal to take in. I am possibly a warg, something that only my ancient ancestors were and the woman I am to marry is a magic user. We have entered the realm of the indescribable it seems."

"Fate certainly is ironic isn't it?" Melara muttered.

Robb downed the last of his wine. "I wouldn't call it that."

"Oh? And what would you call it?"

He pierced her with his deep blue eyes, "Opportunistic…or perhaps fortunate. What are the odds that the woman I am betrothed to would possess magic and the odds that I have my own special forms of magic as well? Who better to understand us in this way than each other?"

"You're very idealistic your grace," Melara said with a small smirk. "Perhaps too idealistic."

Robb shook his head also giving her a small smile. "I prefer to think of it as selective optimism."

Yes indeed he was a Gryffindor through and through.

This was going to be interesting.

"I hope your optimism is warranted your grace," Melara said finishing her own wine. "We're going to need that in a time of war."

"It has been warranted and will be," Robb replied. "And as a sign of this I don't think you should continue calling me your grace."

Melara raised an eyebrow. "And what would you have me call you then?"

"By my name," Robb replied and his voice was surprisingly soft. "I do have a first name you know. I would have you call me by it."

An odd feeling entered Melara's stomach then. It was a combination of wariness and warmth, though she didn't know where the latter came from.

 _Liar, yes you do._

She swallowed hard and shoved that thought aside.

"Very well then," she said and decided to try for some boldness which she wasn't completely famous for. "Then you must do the same for me."

"Alright," he said. "Melara then. It does sound better than my lady."

The brunette smirked and then pushed the letter from Tywin Lannister back towards him so it was now in the center of the table. "So what happens now?"

Robb sighed. "As much as I do not like the idea of it, perhaps it might be a good idea for you to return to the Twins. I am assuming that the reason Lord Walder does not know you are here is by use of your magic."

"You are correct."

"Then perhaps it would not be a good idea to continue the ruse any longer. I don't want anyone getting any ideas about the two of us if you stay longer. And there is something I have been meaning to ask you as well. Your brothers know you are here yes?"

"They do."

"All of you siblings?"

"No, not all of them. Only my brothers born of Bethany Rosby know I am here. My half siblings do not," Melara replied knowing she would need to unveil another piece of her magic soon.

Robb frowned. "How do they not know? You are a healer and no doubt see many men during the day….including Freys that are not Ser Perwyn, Willamen, Ser Benfrey and Olyvar."

She was a little pleased that he managed to remember all of their names. "That's another piece of clever magic. I wear something called a glamour around my half-brothers."

Robb frowned. "What in the seven hells is a glamor?"

Melara chuckled. "It's a magical disguise. A well placed spell can make the wearer look like someone else entirely. My half-brothers think that I am someone completely different. I thought it would be a prudent idea if I were going to serve as a healer in your army. This way, no one but my four brothers know I am here."

Robb blinked at her definition. "So to my army, you are simply some common village woman with a talent for healing and completely different features."

"Correct."

Robb looked as if he were trying to wrap his head around the concept. "That's...incredible. "But how is that possible?"

The brunette smirked. "Magic is an incredibly useful tool sometimes. Only the people I choose were allowed to see who I truly was."

"And that would include me," Robb said. "You look too much like your brothers in order for me to think it was some sort of disguise, magical or non magical."

"Indeed."

Robb sank back in his chair. "I find I am learning something new every day. That simplifies matters then. But in order to make things less complicated even further, perhaps it would be a good idea for you to return to the Twins for the time being.

"Then if I go to meet Tywin Lannister in Riverrun, perhaps it would be a prudent idea to write to the Lord of the Crossing and tell him that a wedding will be held in my mother's ancestral home sooner rather than intended."

Melara blinked and looked at him in shock for a moment before she recovered herself. "That would no doubt please him very much."

Robb looked at her for a moment and she wanted to shift uncomfortably under his gaze. It almost seemed as if he were able to read every inch of her face when his remarkably blue eyes gazed into hers.

The moment of silence extended as the both of them looked at each other and Melara wondered what sort of moment they were having.

Finally Robb spoke. "Would it please _you_?"

Merlin what a pointed question. So she responded with one of her own. "Do you think it would please me?"

Robb gave her an almost sheepish smile. "I don't know. There are times when I find you very difficult to read. This time is one of them."

At least something hadn't changed in the last few weeks.

"Well you can rest assured that I am," she replied with a dead pan expression. "The idea does please me."

Robb's smile was only slight but Melara had a feeling that he was glad. "Good. So am I."

"You are?" she asked. "And why is that?"

Robb sat back in his chair and this time his smile was almost lazy. "A few reasons. "The first is that winter is coming. Despite them being the words of my house, they are always true. The frost is coming and so is the snow. My bannermen are eager to return home and gather the harvest before there is none left. I have added the Trident to my kingdom as the river lords have no intention of returning to the dominion of the Lannisters. None of my sisters are in the control of the lions anymore. I am in a position that I can hold the north and the Trident without any more blood being shed. And my father's bones have been returned to us."

Melara sat up straight again, eyes narrowing at her betrothed. "What do you mean his bones have been returned?"

Robb's expression tightened. "Not long before you came as a healer to my army, the Master of Coin, Lord Petyr Baelish arrived in the camp with the bones of my father. I believe he was attempting to med some sort of tear in his relationship with my mother whom he grew up with. But after she had received the bones, she demanded that he leave…claiming he had broken her trust. It was a lucky thing that I was not around at the time otherwise I would have gutted him like the filthy fish that he is."

His hand tightened on the pommel of his sword and Melara eyed him carefully for a moment.

She had never met Lord Baelish but had always wondered at the exact manner with which he had risen to power and then attained a position on the small council.

His father was once a minor lord in the Fingers and a bannerman of late Lord Jon Arryn. She also knew that he had been fostered at Riverrun and had fallen in love with Catelyn Tully during his stay there. When she was betrothed to Brandon Stark, he challenged the heir to Winterfell to a duel for Catelyn's hand.

It was only by the good grace of the lady herself that Brandon didn't kill Baelish.

Interesting…and somewhat concerning as well.

"You look pensive Melara," Robb said looking at her carefully. "Are you well?"

Melara pursed her lips. "You said you didn't meet Baelish?"

"No I didn't."

She nodded. "Did you ever wonder if maybe that was something that he planned?"

Robb's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that he obviously went to your mother for a reason and in such a manner of secrecy it causes me to wonder if the returning of your father's bones to her rather than to you as the king in the north was a way to manipulate her further. Because correct me if I am wrong, but unless your family is threatened, your mother will not think badly of anyone yes?"

Robb paused for a moment but then nodded. "Yes."

"Precisely and because she had history with Baelish, he was counting on this nostalgia so that she would not hate him or seek to kill him. And that is possibly because he could have done something leading to your father's arrest while he was in the capital. Could this be the meaning behind your mother's claim of broken trust?"

Robb's eyes had widened and his face had turned red but before he could speak, Melara held up her hand. "Peace, I am not saying that he had he had anything to do with the slaughtering of Lord Stark's retinue and his imprisonment. But his presence in the capital would be enough to convince your mother that he didn't help Lord Stark at the very least evade his arrest. And this would go against his supposed loyalty to your mother for if it was a true thing…he would have aided Lord Stark in whatever way he could. And yet he didn't. The question is….why?"

"Does it matter?" Robb asked, his handsome face twisting slightly with anger. "We know he was derelict in his loyalty to my mother by not helping my father which makes him out to be a liar. Is that not enough?"

"No," Melara said with blunt frankness. "The key to truly knowing someone is knowing what they want. And Baelish took it upon himself to bring your father's bones to your mother personally, putting himself at her mercy and not simply having a guard send them…now why would he do that?"

"He wanted something from her?"

"Possibly. Did your mother ever tell you what she discussed with him?"

"No, but I didn't ask."

"Well then perhaps you should. A man like Baelish who worked his way to the position that he is in is ambitious enough to be dangerous. The fact that he originally served King Robert and the Lannisters and to your knowledge still does but came here to your mother with such a personal and emotional demonstration of his supposed loyalty indicates that he knows how to play to both sides of this war. So what does he stand to gain with these cloak and dagger tactics?"

"We know that he is a watcher," Robb mused his face returning to a normal color. "He has no military power at his fingertips and he must use a form of cunning."

"Correct," Melara replied. "And the knowledge that he may be playing both sides of the war means that he is loyal to no one, no matter how much he says he is. What he _is_ loyal to is himself and the idea of power…which we can assume is his penultimate motive."

Robb nodded, his expression tight. "He is in this game we are playing for himself then."

"Indeed and from what we have seen so far, he knows secrets about both sides. His loyalty is to himself for if it truly was to your mother, he would have brought Sansa to her. Don't trust Baelish. A man like that is adept at playing games and I suspect that your family has not been his fist victims."

Robb growled out a curse under his breath and poured the wine again. "I will gut him the next time I see him."

Melara nodded. "And don't listen to a thing he says. If he is willing to try and manipulate your mother emotionally then I shudder to think of the things he would try and do to the son of the man he saw as an enemy."

A sudden grin came over Robb's face that was almost wolfish. "You need not worry my lady. I won't be moved by his honeyed words."

Melara snorted slightly. "Good. I am going to hold you to that. You are far too honorable for your own good."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that concern I hear?"

"Caution," she dead panned and his smiled widened. "Perhaps mixed with some concern then?"

She shook her head at him and got up from the table to put the decanter of wine away. "You are a very irritating man Robb Stark."

Just as she passed him, his arm shot out and took hold of her hand jerking her to a halt.

His hand was rough and warm and as it enclosed her smaller slender one, something stirred in her lower stomach causing her to grit her teeth.

She glanced down into his blue eyes which were suddenly very intent and there was a heat to them that she had never seen before.

"No," he said in a low voice, getting to his feet so he could stand in front of her, not letting go of her hand the whole while. "I am simply a man who knows what he wants."

"Are you?" she asked. Melara hated the fact that he was slightly taller than she was as it made her feel vulnerable to him….something that was unacceptable to someone as world wise as she was.

"Yes," he replied, his voice dying even more to a low growl which caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. "And my wants are always quite simple."

Never one to back down from a challenge especially if it was one she thought she could win, Melara took a step closer to him. "Is that so?"

"Aye," he practically growled and then snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her gently against his chest.

Melara pressed her hands flat against his torso, feeling the firm tight muscles flex and move beneath his tunic and feeling her own temperature mount. The last time she had been this close to him had been when she was in his tent not long ago, and though that encounter had been under false pretenses it was no less heated.

The same as it was now, except this time Melara was aware that Robb wanted to kiss her….and she was more than ready for it.

So when his slips slanted over hers, she was able to respond and not freeze in shock and lean into him.

Robb pressed her even more firmly against his chest, his other hand coming up to tangle in her dark curls.

She knotted her hands behind the back of his neck and pressed closer. Robb's lips were soft but firm and as they melded against her, she opened her mouth slightly to him and just held back a hum of satisfaction when his tongue slipped in and began to dance with hers.

For someone who purported to be complete honor and nobility, he certainly knew how to kiss.

 _He must have gotten practice somewhere._

It wasn't like she was complaining. If he was this good of a kisser, she wondered how he was in other areas.

The thought made her smirk as her stomach knotted in responding to his heated kisses.

Melara gripped the collar of his tunic, knees going slightly weak though she firmly held herself aloft. There was no way she was going to allow Robb the satisfaction of seeing how affected she was by this.

But Merlin it was glorious.

Deciding she had had enough of him taking the lead, Melara pulled gently at his bottom lips with her teeth and was pleased to hear a low groan emanate from the back of his throat.

Their lips seemed to move together in a heated dance where one was constantly fighting for control. Robb would move his lips to one side of her mouth, kissing and nipping at the skin there before she would turn her mouth again and seize hold of his.

After an interminable amount of time, they both pulled away, breathing hard. Melara's right hand slid from the collar of his tunic down to his chest and felt the quickened beat of his heart beneath her palm.

In turn, his left hand untangled from her dark curls and rested against the side of her neck.

She felt Robb's forehead press against hers, felt his warm breath against the side of her face and shivered in spite of herself.

"Was that a goodbye then?" she asked after a moment and was very pleased with herself when her voice came out steady. No matter how affected she was by something someone had done, good or bad she could not show it. It was how she had been raised.

Slytherins were calculated, cunning and controlled. She had been in control of every situation she had been in up until the moment she had met Robb and even then, no one but her full blood brothers knew she was here.

Every aspect of her life had been carefully planned and even though she hadn't planned on her marriage to Robb Stark before her father had brought it up because arranged marriages were nothing new to her, the prospect seemed intriguing especially because of the power it would bring her.

Magic afforded her more of a choice but now all of the north and the Trident would be conscious of those choices and not fault her for them.

Had it been a choice to care for Robb though? She did feel a certain affection for him. He was stubborn and naïve and foolishly noble…in a way just like Ron.

Maybe she hadn't had a choice but to care for him. His personality was much like her former fiancé's in a way. More than once she had had to bail Ron out of trouble when his mouth wrote a cheque his fists or wand couldn't cash and she had still loved him for his willingness to do what was right no matter how hard it was.

 _Maybe I have no choice but to fall for the honorable idiots._

"Not a goodbye," Robb replied somewhat heavily and he pulled back just enough so that she could see his blue eyes were almost black with desire. "Our wedding is in a few weeks after all. You will never be able to be rid of me then."

"Who said I wanted to be?" Melara asked in a low voice eyeing his lips again.

His only response was a low growl before he surged his mouth onto hers again.

"Careful now," Melara said somewhat breathlessly against his lips. "You keep this up you may have to find someone to marry us right now."

Robb chuckled deep in his throat and he continued to pull at his lips gently with his teeth.

They were going to be bruised beyond belief by the time he was finished. But Melara found she didn't completely mind. She would take care of them later.

Merlin she had forgotten how wonderful kissing could be.

When Robb abandoned her mouth in favor of trailing soft kisses down the side of her neck, she felt a low moan slip out from between her teeth.

The fact that Robb's face was bearded and scratched against her soft skin the way it did made tingles of delight course through her.

He worked his way back up to her jaw and then trailed gentle kisses up to her ear before nipping at the skin there causing her to inhale sharply.

Merlin but that felt incredible.

After absorbing it for as long as she possibly dared, Melara tilted her face again and their lips met once more in an even more passionate kiss, both of them fighting for dominance and yet meeting in sweet surrender all the same.

After what seemed like a century, Robb pulled back.

His breathing was heavy and as he rested his forehead against her, his hands down upon her waist had grown even tighter. But she didn't mind.

The brunette rested her hands flat against his tight chest and closed her eyes as they remained resting against each other.

"I think you had better leave soon my lady," Robb finally spoke. His voice was husky but his eyes were full of heated intent. "The longer you stay, the more tempting it will be to find a godswood so that I might wed you right away and make you mine completely."

Melara warmed at the desire in his words before giving him a suggestive smile. "That doesn't sound so bad to me, it's not as if anyone would find out with my ability to hide the truth."

A strangled growl slipped from between Robb's teeth and with an effort he pushed back from her slightly. "As much as I would love nothing more than to do that immediately, you deserve more than that. I will marry you the right way."

Melara barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Merlin, why was she always attracted to bloody Gryffindors?

"Very well," she said, glad that none of her disappointment showed in her tone. "I suppose we will just have to content ourselves with being on the minds of each other until you arrive at Riverrun."

Robb threw back his head and laughed, the sound of it ringing off the walls causing her to smile slightly. "I suppose it is a gift then that my will is so strong."

Melara glanced at the candle that was beginning to burn down and noted the wax was dripping onto the table. "I suppose I should get some rest then. I'll leave in the morning."

Robb nodded. "I will come to wish you farewell then."

Melara smirked at him. "If it's a goodbye like the one you just gave me, then perhaps I will need to stay a while longer."

Robb's eyes darkened almost to black at her words. "Don't tempt me Melara. I have a good deal of self control but when it comes to you…."

He let the words trail off and the brunette heated when she saw the hungry look in his eyes.

"Very well," she said. "I will say goodnight then if I am to leave in the morning."

He nodded before taking her hand and pressing a long slow kiss to her knuckles which caused something to stir in the pit of her stomach.

"Goodnight Melara," he said in a low voice, eyes never leaving hers.

"Goodnight Robb," she whispered back.

Grey Wind got to his feet and followed his master to the door of the tent but not before butting his head against the brunette's hand as if to say his own personal goodbye.

At the door of the tent Robb turned around and looked at her with an intent look in his blue eyes before nodding once more and disappearing out into the dark, Grey Wind just after him.

As soon as they were gone, Melara blew out a breath of air she didn't even know she had been holding.

 _I'll send a message to my brothers in the morning telling them I am going to the Twins,_ she thought to herself. _Right now…Right now I need to get some rest. And perhaps_ _find a spring and take a cold shower._

Ω

The grey light of dawn peeked over the horizon all too soon for Melara who vowed when she opened her eyes that as soon as she arrived back at the Twins, she would fall into her bed and take a nice long nap.

It felt as though she ahd just fallen asleep when she was forced to wake and so the feeling of having sand in her eyes was a prominent one.

She also wanted a hot bath and a good meal. Constantly using the _scourgify_ spell and conjuring her own food had become a tiresome process.

Sometimes the Muggle way of doing things was really better than the magical way ad Melara counted it as a form of indulgence.

It would also be nice to sleep in her own bed rather than the cot she had been using for the last few weeks. Something about the smell of her own sheets and soft mattress beneath her body had a hypnotic quality that made her want to return to the Twins right away.

But for now those desires would have to wait as she rose from her cot and hurriedly dressed.

She had sent word to her brothers via her personal patronus the night before just after Robb had left that she would be leaving for the Twins the following morning and that she wished to say goodbye.

Out came the bag and she haphazardly waved her hand so all of the potions bottles leapt from the table into their assigned pockets.

The goal was to get out of the camp so that no one knew she was gone before the sun rose.

It also seemed as if there was a lot she had to do if her wedding was going to take place in Riverrun in a few weeks.

Merlin, married at sixteen…even though arranged marriages were commonplace where she had come from, sixteen was still quite young to have one arranged and fulfilled.

Usually both sets of parents wished for their children to be finished with school before there was a wedding in England.

Centuries before however, it hadn't mattered as there had been rooms in Hogwarts that had been set aside for married couples so as soon as they were married they were permitted to live together in a school while they finished their studies.

"It amazes me that there are no such things as schools here," Melara muttered to herself and she hurriedly packed up her things. "Maybe that will be something to look into later."

"I think that sounds like an excellent idea," said a familiar voice and Melara glanced up with a slight start and then smiled when she saw her brother Perwyn standing in the door with Ollie, Will and Ben just behind him.

"You're on time for once," she noted raising an eyebrow at them and Wyn smirked at her. "We can be reliable when its necessary."

"Do you have everything?" Ben asked and she nodded. "All I really ended up bringing with me were some potions as well as a few garments and cloaks."

"What about this?" Ollie asked holding up the cast iron cauldron she had transfigured from a pot that she had left outside.

Melara let out a curse and summoned it from her brother's hands before shrinking it so that it fit into her bag.

"That must be awfully convenient," Will said in a somewhat longing tone as he looked at her bag. "Gods what I wouldn't give to be able to practice magic. Maesters were once able to do it you know. I wonder why they stopped."

"Because madmen like Aerys Targaryen would have taken full advantage of it and those who could do it and perhaps have demanded that the find a way to hatch dragon eggs," Ben muttered. "May the gods curse him. Thank goodness all of the dragons are gone from Westeros. Who knows what sort of havoc they would be able to wreak if they were still here."

"That's neither here nor there at this point," Wyn interrupted before a debate was to be had. "We've come to say goodbye to Melara."

"Indeed," Ollie said cheerfully. "And speaking of goodbyes, did you inform the king of your departure?"

Melara carefully controlled her reaction and simply nodded. "He said he would come to wish me farewell."

"How did he take the news of your magic?" Ben asked.

"Rather well all things considered," Melara said thoughtfully as she walked across the interior of the tent to retrieve her cloak that was hanging up. "Although I had a feeling he would. The north if a far more mystical place in nature than the south."

"You didn't tell him about your part in rescuing Lady Sansa did you?" Ollie asked and the brunette shook her head. "It didn't come up and it didn't seem to be the right time.

One surprise was enough for one night and even though I had a feeling that the men of the north was constant souls well used to things like magic…I decided not to push it."

"I suppose that is true," Will mused. "After all they have the Wall which couldn't have been built by men alone. And then there are tales of the Others."

"You don't honestly believe those fairy tales about grumpkins and snarks do you?" Ben asked.

"I think we're in a time when anything is possible," Melara replied remembering the strange dreams she had been having lately. "After all, magic exists. And if some magic exists it is only a slippery slope to imagine that all sorts of others things exist as well."

"Perhaps," Ben replied. "But you will pardon me sister fi I need to see an Other first in order to believe in them."

"Just because you have not seen on Ben does not mean that they don't exist," Melara replied. "Physically absent does not mean physically nonexistent."

"Well said," a deep rumbling voice said and all five Frey siblings started slightly before turning to the door of the ten to find the King in the North standing there.

The stunning brunette surprised a slight smirk and curtsied along with her brothers who bowed.

"Your grace," Perwyn said. "We had just come to see our sister off."

"I assumed as much," Robb replied and moved his hands to fold behind his back.

Just before he did so, Melara caught sight of a letter in his left hand and noted that it had been opened meaning that he had been reading it as he had walked to her tent.

She wondered what that was about but when she raised her eyes to Robb's face she noticed that he shook his head slightly as if indicating that now was not a good time to ask.

There was a huff from the outside and then the large head of Grey Wind poled into the tent, ever behind his master causing Melara to smile.

"Shall we get going then?" Ollie asked.

"I assume you are going to be travelling by magical means?" Robb asked glancing slightly at her brothers who suddenly seemed to be sporting identical smirks.

Melara elbowed Wyn in the ribs slightly before nodding at her betrothed. "I am."

"Thank the gods I am not going with you," Ollie quipped. "I've been on the end of an apparition once. I'm surprised I managed to keep anything down after!"

"An apparition?" Robb asked.

"Pray you never have to go somewhere far away with her your grace," Wyn joked. "Apparition is about the most uncomfortable of her spells that I have ever experienced.

Unfortunately it is also terribly convenient so there are times when it is necessary."

"How does it work?" the king asked.

Melara glared slightly at her brothers before turning back to Robb. "In the simplest way that I can explain it, it is a spell that allows me to travel anywhere I want to go with a single thought. The only downside is that I have to know what the place looks like before I can go there. So a keep like Winterfell or the Wall for that matter I could not go to as I don't know what they look like and have never been there before."

Robb's eyes widened in an almost comical way. He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something and then abruptly shut it, eyes narrowed as if he were thinking hard about something.

Melara decided to take pity on him. "I suppose its something you will need to see to believe." She turned to her brothers. "Shall we go then?"

Perwyn nodded and she waved her hand, ensuring that they were all disguised before leaving the tent.

In all actuality it might have been better to simply apparate to the Twins from inside the tent but Melara wanted to walk among the trees first and have a little more time with her brothers and Robb before saying goodbye.

Robb looked a bit bewildered for a moment before shaking his head, his expression smoothing out again. "No one can see us now?"

Ben shook his head. "No one your grace. I find Melara spells of disillusionment are highly convenient for getting around anywhere."

Robb rubbed the side of his face wryly. "I think this will warrant a much longer conversation in the future my lady."

"I look forward to it," the brunette said quietly as they walked from the tent and out into the rows of other tents.

Silence reigned between the six of them as they walked slowly out of the camp. Grey Wind was padding along between Robb and Melara and every so often the brunette would reach her hand down and rest it upon the large shaggy head of the wolf. She found it oddly comforting in a way.

When they had finally passed out of the camp and into the forest of surrounding trees, the scent of fresh earth was infinitely sharper. Mist was still rising from the ground and the dew of the grass dampened the shoes the brunette was wearing. The back of her cloak brushed the tops of the grass wetting it as well.

The farther they went into the forest, the grimmer the expression became on Robb's face to the point until Melara wondered whether or not she should stop him and ask what was wrong.

He was still holding the letter behind his back and a part of her was itching to ask what it was about but she knew she would find out before long.

Finally after about a quarter of an hour had passed, the group came to a stop in the clearing. There was a large stone in the center of it but none of them paid it any mind save Grey Wind who wandered up to it and began sniffing the grass around the perimeter as if ensuring that it was safe for the humans.

Melara paused and turned to her brothers. "I suppose we should get this over with. I'm not much for goodbyes and I'm going to see you soon anyway."

Wyn laughed and opened his arms so she might walk into them before holding her close. "Eloquent as always sister. But yes, we shall see you again soon."

"Don't get into any trouble," Ben admonished when she turned to him next. "I know you excel at that."

"Then you know its something I cannot avoid for long," Melara quipped back at him and he smirked.

Will chuckled when she embraced him next. "Then if you must get into trouble…try not to get caught."

"I never am," the brunette replied.

"And keep an eye on Roslin," Ollie whispered in her ear when she got to him and she nodded seriously. Out of all of her brothers, Ollie was the one that was most attentive to Roslin. Perhaps that was because he was the youngest brother and had been around Roslin the most.

But then he was quite attentive to Melara as well, perhaps because they were all the closest in age. Wyn, Ben and Will were all grown men with lives of their own and spent more time away from the Twins. Ollie had lived in the keep with Melara and Roslin the longest so she supposed it was only natural that he would feel a more pronounced connection to them than the rest of his brothers.

"I will," she whispered back and he nodded as he pulled away and kissed her cheek.

Wyn gave her a long look as if there was more that he wanted to say but then paused, looking between her and Robb and then nodded at her.

She nodded back and then the four of them drifted away to talk amongst themselves and in doing so, give her and Robb some privacy.

The King in the North stepped forward and reached down to take up her hand, running his thumb over the back of it.

His deep blue eyes were intent upon her face as if there was nowhere else he wanted to look and Melara found she felt just the same.

"You'll be careful?" he said in a low voice and the brunette found she could do nothing else but nod.

"Good," he replied. They didn't say much in those minutes as plenty had been said the night before and Melara found she simply wanted to drink in his presence as much as possible before she had to go.

In a way, Wyn had been right. She didn't have to be as strong as she thought she needed to be. Robb did provide a certain support in a way and one that she was annoyed that she needed.

Ah well, she had gone through the same feelings with Ron. This was just slightly different.

Suddenly possessed of a strange urgent feeling, Melara reached out her free hand and rested it against the side of Robb's bearded face. The stubble on it scratched against her palm but it was a lovely feeling and one in which she wished she could leave her hand there for a while longer.

"Be careful as well," she said in a low voice, boring her jade eyes into his so he would know how serious she wished to be.

Robb's only reaction was to simply nod before turning his head slightly and pressing a quick but gentle kiss to her palm.

She nodded and then released his hand before stepping away. The brunette glanced at her brothers who were standing several feet away.

Wyn raised a hand in farewell and she did the same before locking eyes with Robb one more time.

And then she centered the Twins in her mind, closed her eyes and spun on her heel…disappearing from the forest with a crack.

There was a moment of silence in the clearing after she left where Robb tried to get a handle on his surprise at the overt display of powerful magic before he ran a hand over the side of his face and turned to Melara's four brothers who were slowly beginning to walk back.

"Ser Perwyn?" he called out and all four Frey sons came to a screeching halt before the tallest turned back to him in an almost robotic manner. "Yes your grace?"

"I would speak to you for a moment," Robb said and watched as a look was passed between the four of them. Perwyn then nodded to Benfrey, Willamen and Olyvar to go back to the camp without him and slowly made his way back to Robb. "How can I be of service your grace?"

Robb waited until the other three men had disappeared among the trees before turning back to Melara's eldest brother and analyzing him closely. Perwyn had always been a steady advisor and trusted field commander for him even before he learned that he would be marrying his sister.

Out of all of the Freys that were in his army, the four of them seemed to possess anything looking like honor and Robb would cautiously admit he trusted them above the others.

It was obvious that Perwyn loved his sister very much, no more than Robb loved Sansa and Arya and would do anything for her.

Because of this parallel that existed between them, that made it ideal to discuss some of the concerns that had recently arisen for Robb.

Namely the ones that had arrived in the form of a raven from his brother Jon when he had returned to his tent the night before.

Robb sighed and looked at the dark haired young man. "I have a bit of a problem Ser Perwyn and I would like your council on how to handle it."

The other man blinked before nodding seriously. "I would be happy to assist your grace."

Robb held up a hand wearily for a moment and then chuckled slightly. "But first I think we should dispense with the political niceties. We are going to be family soon enough and calling each other by our first names will begin that process."

Perwyn raised an eyebrow as if he were thinking seriously about that. "You are still a king your grace."

"Aye, but it was a title that I never sought and I would never wish for my brothers to call me by that name and they are family. So too will you and your brothers be."

After a moment Perwyn smiled as if he were adjusting to the idea. "Very well then…Robb it is."

"Good," the king replied. "Now that that is settled, there is something I would like for you to see."

He withdrew the letter from a fold in the long fur he was wearing and passed it over. Perwyn eyed it for a moment before gingerly taking the letter and opening it.

His eyes scanned the page for about two minutes as they walked, narrowing all the way as his lips moved silently.

Robb had already read the letter three times and had been going over possibilities in his head all night. He was now more tempted than ever to take what Tywin Lannister was offering and then withdraw to deal with the problems in his own realm.

The iron born raids were becoming more and more intense since he had ridden south and Theon was itching for action. They had begun moving further in land which had made his concerns morph into alarm.

And not only that but the hastily written letter he had received made him want to ride for Riverrun that very day and sign whatever agreement that Lannister had put in place.

Finally Perwyn looked up from the letter and his eyes were dark. "Stannis Baratheon and his army are at the Wall and heading south?"

"Aye," Robb said grimly. "Jon wrote to say that they had landed a few weeks earlier and had taken command of the Wall. Baratheon has impressed upon everyone the need to call him king even though he lost the battle for King's Landing and his red whore is too busy terrorizing the men with her strange magic. She has a fascination for fires and there are rumors that she and her sorcery were connected to Renly Baratheon's death. I don't know how true the rumors are but I don't doubt Stannis' ambition to be king. If he saw his brother as a threat to that ambition, I am convinced that he would have found a way to remove him. And that makes him doubly dangerous.

"And then there are the rumors of his wife's welcoming of the Red priestess from Asshai to Dragonstone. Melisandre is her name. Apparently she has some strange connection to Stannis….something she sees in those flames of hers. It's all very unsettling."

"Aye, and the fact that he is in the north is worrying as well," Perwyn in a low grim voice. "Your brother did mention his motives for being there however."

"No he didn't," Robb replied shaking his head. "It must have been too dangerous to say. But he did say that Stannis was preparing to march south towards Winterfell which is now surrounded from the north and the west."

"Do you think he intends to take it?" Perwyn asked in alarm.

"I know not," Robb said. "But I do know that he dislikes the fact that I did not bend the knee to him as king of the Seven Kingdoms. He may see the fact that I have been claimed as a king by my bannermen and have taken the Trident into my kingdom as a betrayal, something I know that he does not forgive."

"Ironic considering he may have had something to do with his brother's death," Perwyn replied rubbing the side of his face.

"Indeed. And now Winterfell is vulnerable," Robb said. "Our walls are strong but there are not many men to defend it and I do not wish for it to be under siege. My brothers are still there and if it falls….I will be known as a king who cannot defend my own keep."

"Tywin Lannister has also lost some of his credibility in that area your grace," Perwyn replied.

"Aye he has. But I do not wish to follow in his footsteps."

"So you will meet with Tywin Lannister at Riverrun to discuss his terms then?" Melara's older brother asked.

"I don't think I have a choice," Robb said. "I cannot afford to let the ironborn or Stannis Baratheon anywhere near it and I cannot do that fighting a war in the south. The Lannisters have nothing I want anymore and if I need to cut my losses here and return the Kingslayer to them in exchange for keeping my home secure….well then that is something I will have to do."

Perwyn nodded slowly. "Lord Karstark will not favor this plan."

Robb sighed. "No he will not and I cannot blame him. But it must be done. I was keen to see the Kingslayer dead for his crimes against my family and the north but he will become the bargaining chip I need to see the north free of the Lannisters. Plus I want him gone from my sight."

"Very well then," Perwyn said folding the letter back up and handing it to him. "Shall I give the order for us to break camp immediately?"

"Aye," Robb said grimly. "By midday we ride for Riverrun."

Ω

Melara's first night back at the Twins was a strange one.

After checking on her sister, putting her things away and having a meal and a nice long bath, the brunette settled down on her bed to sleep.

But sleep itself had other plans.

 _When she opened her eyes again, she was lying flat on her back on the ground. The sky above her was dark and starless and the air was freezing cold.  
_

 _The ground beneath her was wet and when Melara placed her hands flat against the earth, they came away white and damp.  
_

 _Snow…she was lying on top of snow.  
_

What the blood hell is this?

 _Slowly she forced herself to a sitting position, hoping her teeth weren't chattering and rubbed her hands up and down her arms to warm them.  
_

 _It did little good so she slowly got to her feet, and remembered the warming charm and cast it upon herself, sighing with relief as it took effect.  
_

 _Only then did she look around.  
_

 _It appeared as if she were standing in the middle of a forest and was in a clearing surrounding by enormously tall trees.  
_

 _What was familiar was the fact that every trunk of every tree had a strange face carved into it.  
_

 _A godswood….she was in a godswood.  
_

 _Melara backed up slowly and then felt something press against her back. She jumped and whirled about to see that it was the trunk of yet another tree. But this trunk was white and the leaves in the canopy above it were blood red.  
_

 _This was the heart tree.  
_

 _Slowly her thoughts began to jam together in a coherent manner. She was obviously somewhere in the north if the snow all about her was any indication. The question was_ _just how far north._

 _"Who are you?"_

 _At the sound of the unfamiliar voice the brunette's head shot up and her mouth all but fell open in surprise.  
_

 _At the edge of the heart tree there was a small pool which looked to be frozen over because of the cold. Its surface was as shiny as glass and there was a thin layer of snow_ _resting around its edge._

 _Absently Melara wondered if it was thick enough to skate on.  
_

 _But then she looked further beyond the pool and realized she was not alone.  
_

 _Sitting at the edge of the pool in a strange chair with wheels on it was an unfamiliar boy. He looked to be about eleven years of age with dark auburn hair that looked more brown in the light. He also had familiar deep blue eyes that were staring at her in surprise.  
_

 _"Melara," the brunette replied deciding not to say her last name. "Who are you?"  
_

 _"I'm Bran," the boy replied. "Bran Stark."_

Ω

 **Sorry for the long wait guys, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know its another cliff hanger, but I just couldn't resist. Don't forget to review and happy reading everyone!**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

 _Melara stared at the small boy in front of her, jaw going slack at the admission he had just given her.  
_

 _She was somehow lucid enough to remember that she was still dreaming but this dream was unlike anything she had had before. She had never spoken with another human in her dreams but this dream seemed far less mystical than the others even though it was the most spectacular.  
_

 _And his name…this could be no one else but Robb Stark's younger brother. He looked like Robb in miniature if a bit slighter where Robb was more muscular. His hair was the same dark color though with tones of red in it but his eyes were the same. They were a deep blue and seemed large enough to swim in.  
_

 _But how was he here…in her dream that was?  
_

 _The amount of strange things that had been happening to her lately cemented the knowledge that something otherworldly was going on. Now with the presence of Robb Stark's brother in such a strange way…..she felt a chill creep up and down her spine.  
_

 _What the bloody hell was going on here?  
_

 _Was she in his dream or was he in hers? And was it possible to dream in tandem as they seemed to be doing?  
_

 _And what was the significance of being here in Winterfell if that was where they were. After all where else could they be? Given the boy's….condition it would be rather impossible for him to be anywhere else, especially with the physical presence of that chair of his. He was sitting in it before the tree as if he were entirely familiar with it so_ _this must be his home._

 _If he was physically here that was. He might be dreaming also.  
_

 _Merlin this was confusing.  
_

 _The boy…Bran Stark…was still looking at her with wide blue eyes. His face was pale in the silvery light and the strange chair he was sitting in looked quite dark. Everything was a contrast of light and shadow it seemed.  
_

 _Melara blinked and then muttered a curse under her breath and then simply decided to state the obvious. "You look like him."  
_

 _This obviously wasn't the answer the boy was expecting for he gaped at her like he was a fish out of water. "What?"  
_

 _"Robb. You look like him," Melara said calmly. "He told me that he and you and your sister Sansa had inherited your mother's looks and your other sister Arya and your brother Rickon looked more like your father."  
_

 _Bran spent the next minute blinking at her as if she had said that the world around them was not real at all and they were in fact fairies.  
_

 _Finally he managed to speak. "How….How do you know that? How do you know my brother?"  
_

I suddenly wake up in an incredibly lucid dream to find a strange boy in a place I have never seen before and suddenly I am the bizarre one, _Melara thought to herself.  
_

 _"Well," she said aloud as she took a step closer to Bran and the heart tree itself and cleared one of the nearest stones of its blanket of snow. "Seeing as how I am to marry your brother, he has told me a lot of things about you and your siblings."  
_

 _Bran's reaction to this news was much the same after what she had told him earlier. "Robb's going to be married? When?"  
Melara sighed. She hadn't intended to tell a lengthy story tonight but it didn't seem as if she would be waking up any time soon, she might as well make herself comfortable and talk to her betrothed's brother.  
_

I can see family reunions are going to take on an entirely new meaning when I marry Stark. _  
_

 _"Soon," she replied. "But in order to know more, you need to know my full name. It's Melara Frey, I'm Walder Frey's daughter."  
_

 _She could see in a moment when the wariness and caution entered Bran's eyes and she wanted to curse again. Melara knew that some of her half siblings had come to Winterfell and had no doubt made absolute fools of themselves while they were there.  
_

 _So she felt the need to make several distinctions to Bran in explanation for the rest of her father's appalling brood.  
_

 _"Oh don't look at me like that," she said somewhat sharply. "I am fully aware that most of my half siblings are bloody idiots but I assure you that I am not one of them._

 _Whatever you saw when some of my relations were here, they do not represent the rest of us and most days I do pretend that I am not related to them."  
_

 _Bran said nothing for a long time, simply regarding her and Melara could tell that he wanted to trust her but wasn't sure how to.  
_

 _Finally he spoke. "How did you meet my brother?"  
_

 _"That is a much longer and more complicated story," the brunette sighed. "But I'll tell it to you. It's all going to come out at some point."  
_

 _Bran's eyes were unnaturally focused for someone his age and Melara had a feeling that his uncanny ability to keep calm had something to do with the wheeled chair he was sitting in.  
_

 _His accident had obviously changed him more than a little.  
_

 _They would no doubt talk about that also at some point while they were still there.  
_

 _"First of all," Melara began as she looked around the godswood. "I believe I'll sit down. This is going to be a long story and I'd like to be comfortable while I tell it."  
_

 _Bran nodded but said nothing until Melara had brushed the snow off of one of the rather large stones in front of the chair and primly seated herself atop it, casting a silent warming charm so she wouldn't freeze to death.  
_

 _Merlin if this was how she was reacting to a dream, or some sort of vision, how on earth was she going to do living in snow and ice year round?  
_

 _The brunette shook her head, she really needed to get her priorities straight.  
_

 _"Well first things first. I take it this sort of thing has happened to you before if you're so calm," she said.  
_

 _Bran looked at her for a moment. "You mean me waking up and being in a completely different place other than my bed?"  
_

 _"Yes that."  
_

 _"Well….then yes, this has happened to me before. But it's never been quite so…vivid."  
_

 _"How long has it been happening?" the brunette asked.  
_

 _The younger boy shrugged. "A few months now. Not long after….after my accident it began happening, but I didn't understand it. I still don't really understand it, but I've stopped fighting it. What about you? Has this sort of thing happened to you before too?"  
_

 _"It has," Melara replied calmly. "But it's only been happening to me for a few weeks. And now whenever I wake up, I'm on an island with a grove of trees with faces carved into them."  
_

 _Bran's eyes had gone wide as if he knew what she was talking about. "The Isle of Faces? You were there? I've read about that place. It's said to be the most ancient and deeply magical place in all of Westeros. It's not known if anyone is still living here. And everyone who has gone there has come back changed. There was even a rumor that_ _Prince Rhaegar Targaryen went there before the tourney at Harrenhal where he met my aunt."_

 _Melara nodded. "I did hear that rumor. And no one knows what he went for."  
_

 _"And then he disappeared with my aunt," Bran whispered. "I've always wondered about that."  
_

 _After a moment where he had proceeded to stare off into space, he shook his head. "I've always wanted to go there…to see if the Green Men still exist. Maybe the last of the Children of the Forest live there as well and they've been hiding all these years."  
_

 _His tone had turned wistful and his hands on the handles of his chair tightened and Melara had a feeling he wanted to go there for more than simply curiosity.  
_

 _"I wasn't there in the dream for very long," Melara continued. "But I saw the green robed people chanting around a blazing fire that must have been seven feet tall. And then they caught sight of me. One of them dragged me forwards towards the fire and try as I might, I couldn't get away. His grip was like iron but his touch burned like fire."  
_

 _Bran's eyes were as large as dinner plates in his pale face.  
_

 _"A green man," he whispered. "You saw a Green Man."  
_

 _"I suppose I did," Melara said suppressing a shudder.  
_

 _"Did he say anything to you?" Bran demanded.  
_

 _The brunette shook her head. "No, he just grabbed my arm and dragged me closer to the fire. And there was this strange…chanting noise. The closer I got to the fire, the_ _more it seemed to dwarf everything, the grass the trees, even the men themselves and the louder the chanting grew until it was all that I could hear."_

 _"And then?" Bran asked leaning forward so far in his chair that Melara feared he would fall out of it.  
_

 _"And then nothing," the brunette replied. "I finally grew close enough to the green man in order to see his eyes. But all I could make out beneath the hood were these horrid white orbs. They were as white as the trunk of a heart tree…and then I woke up in my bed."  
_

 _As her speech trailed off into silence, a howling wind whistled through the branches of the weirwood trees around them, causing Melara to shiver unconsciously.  
_

 _"So he didn't say anything at all then?" Bran pressed. "Not a word? Not even a whisper?"  
_

 _"No," Melara said in a low voice. "He just stood there looking at me. But all the while I got this feeling…this strange feeling."  
_

 _"What sort of strange feeling?" Bran asked.  
_

 _"It was the sort of feeling you get when someone's scrutinizing you," Melara explained. "It felt like he was analyzing me but I don't know why."  
_

 _Bran finally seemed to have been rendered speechless because he leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes and said no more.  
_

 _For a long time silence reigned in the clearing while both contemplated them meaning of the strange dream.  
_

 _Finally Bran spoke. "You've never been there have you? In person I mean?"  
_

 _"Been where?"  
_

 _"The Isle of Faces," he said.  
_

 _"No," Melara replied. "But I've read about it. It was always said to be the most mysterious place in the known world. It's not just somewhere that you can go and visit like_ _you would if you were on holiday. People only go there if they are in desperate need of something."_

 _Bran looked confused. "Holiday?"  
_

 _Melara waved her hand dismissively. "Never mind. The point is, no one would go there if it wasn't extremely important."  
_

 _"Well," Bran said with an air of uneasiness. "I'm beginning to think it's important."  
_

 _Melara stared at him for a moment. "So do I. But I don't know why. It's not as if anyone tells me anything in these dreams."  
_

 _"I think its enough that we're having them," Bran suggested. "They aren't normal. In my dreams, ravens are always talking to me and other animals too. But I can't say I've seen a Green Man."  
_

 _"Be glad you haven't," Melara muttered. "But none of this tells us what we should do. Or if we should do anything at all."  
_

 _"I don't even know if we can do anything," Bran said suddenly looking exasperated. "I mean its not as if I can get around in this."  
_

 _He tapped the wheel of the chair in disgust and Melara felt a surge of sympathy for him. She couldn't even imagine what it would be like to lose the use of her legs.  
_

 _In the back of her mind she wished she had some sort of bone re-growing potion. Madam Pomphrey had used something like that when that idiot Lockhart had vanished all the bones in Potter's arm in their second year.  
_

 _Sometimes she still thought back on the man's lunacy and wanted to laugh. He might have succeeded in obliviating Ron and Harry had Ron's wand been up to snuff down there in the chamber.  
_

 _Score one for Weasley's poverty that he didn't succeed.  
_

 _But she had a feeling that Bran's walking problem wasn't a matter of simply growing back a few bones. Either his spine had been damaged beyond repair or it had been_ _disconnected with the group of muscles that commanded his legs._

 _Either way, it wasn't something a potion could fix, much to her consternation.  
_

 _"Let's examine what we know," she said. "These dreams are obviously a way to get our attention and tell us something. The question is what."  
_

 _"And we're back to where she started," Bran complained. "We can't figure out what they want unless we go to where they are. Or at least where we think they are. And we can't do that."  
_

 _Melara paused for a moment, decided that perhaps it was time to use her inner Gryffindor…if she had one that was…and do something maybe a little reckless.  
_

 _"Well," she said after a bit of silence. "What if we could go?"  
_

 _Bran gaped at her for a moment as if she had just announced she was an Other. "You can't be serious."  
_

 _"Why not?" the beautiful brunette asked. "It's a perfectly logical explanation. The only way we're going to figure out what's happening to us is by going to the source. And right now the source seems to be the Isle of Faces. I don't like walking into a situation that we can't get out of but right now this mystery needs to be solved. And it seems_ _like the answers that we're going to need can only be found on this island. Hence we need to go there."_

 _"But how?" Bran asked. "I can't exactly leave Winterfell on a horse."  
_

 _"That's the least of our problems," Melara said. "Now that I know what Winterfell looks like I can just come here and get you. Now I just need to see if I can apparate to that same grove from my dreams."  
_

 _Bran stared at her again and she had a feeling this would not be the last time tonight that he would look at her as if she had sprouted three heads.  
_

 _"And how do you plan to get me out of Winterfell to the Isle of Faces without a horse and without anyone seeing you and realizing I'm gone?"  
_

 _"That's the simplest part," Melara replied with a smirk.  
_

 _Bran didn't look like he was believing a word of her logic. "How is it the simplest part?"  
_

 _"I'll explain it all later," she said. "But it needs to happen in the next few weeks. After that it might be difficult."  
_

 _"Why would it be difficult?" Bran asked.  
_

 _"Because," Melara explained. "Your sister has been rescued from the capital and is back with your brother in his camp."  
_

 _If Bran had been shocked at her appearance in his dream before the expression he bore now was one of pure unadulterated astonishment. "What? Sansa is with Robb? But what about Arya."  
_

 _"That's the tricky part," Melara continued. "They don't know where she is. Your brother told me that by aid of a stranger Lady Sansa had been spirited out of the capital and to your brother's war camp but when he questioned her about Lady Arya's whereabouts, she didn't know. She claimed she had escaped in the chaos on the day your father was arrested and no one had seen her since."  
_

 _Bran's face became as grim as an eleven year old boy's could be. "And no one knows where she is?"  
_

 _Melara shook her head.  
_

 _Bran's face then took on a suspicious look. "So how do you know all this? You're with my brother right now?"  
_

 _The brunette nodded. "I am, or at least I will be until tomorrow. I need to return to the Twins before my absence is noticed."  
_

 _Bran's expression then went from suspicious to confused. "How long have you been with Robb?"  
_

 _"A few weeks."  
_

 _"Then how does no one know that you're gone?"  
_

 _"Bran how do you suppose we're meeting and talking like this. This isn't any ordinary dream. In fact I am willing to wager that when you wake up, you'll remember every detail of this conversation just like I will. What do you suppose is causing this sort of dream, or vision perhaps?"  
_

 _The boy's eyes narrowed and he opened and closed his mouth a few times perhaps thinking of an answer and then dismissing it a moment later as ludicrous.  
_

 _"You can say the word," Melara said looking at him with amusement. "I can assure you its not a bad one."  
_

 _"But…But magic isn't supposed to be real," Bran said and Melara's smile widened. He was a smarter boy than he realized.  
_

 _"Isn't supposed to be real?" she questioned. "I think you mean we haven't allowed it to be real but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Its just been dormant for all of these years."  
_

 _Bran was looking even more confused than before and Melara decided she would take pity on him. It was like when she was explaining a political concept of the Sacred_ _Twenty Eight to Ron and he appeared more lost and confused the more she talked._

 _It was somewhat endearing really.  
_

 _"But how?" he asked. "How is it real?"  
_

 _Melara shrugged. "How is the Isle of Faces real? How is the Wall real? How were the Others real?"  
_

 _Bran's eyes grew as wide as dinner plates. "You believe in the Others? But I thought no one south of the Neck thought of them as more than old wives tales."  
_

 _"Not all southerners are brash foolish pansies," Melara scoffed chuckling at her own pun. "You shouldn't paint us all with the same brush. Most of my family for example are idiots but there are a few among my brothers who don't buy into everything that the south seems to gobble up."  
_

 _Bran nodded but he still bore a warily thoughtful expression. "Alright."  
_

 _"Alright then," Melara said. "Since we're going to be family I suppose we'll have to trust each other at some point."  
_

 _A tiny smile curved the side of Bran's face upward. "I guess you're right."  
_

 _Then his smile froze and turned into a frown as he looked around. "But if this is all magic, then why can't I wake up? Most of my dreams I can wake myself up from just by knowing that they're dreams. But I know this is a dream and I can't get out of it."  
_

 _Melara frowned. "Neither can I. The only way I've gotten out of a dream in the past is to realize it's a dream, squeeze my eyes shut and then open them again and I'll be in my bed. But I've tried to do so three times so far and nothing!"  
_

 _"This is very strange," Bran said. And then an odd look came over his face. "You don't….You don't suppose that neither one of us dreamed this up do you?"  
_

 _Melara frowned. "What do you mean?"  
_

 _And then she froze, a sudden notion coming to her. "How could we have dreamt it? I have no idea what Winterfell looks like and you've never seen my face before. We knew nothing about each other physically before this and now we're looking at each other plain as day. No something else is going on here."  
_

 _"But what?" Bran asked looking horribly frustrated. All of a sudden his eyes glazed over as if he had suddenly become lost in a distant memory and Melara frowned at him._

 _"What is it?"  
_

 _"I just remembered something," he said in an almost wary voice.  
_

 _"What is it?"  
_

 _Bran glanced down at the creature by his side who nudged his hand before settling down again and closed his eyes a moment. "Before I woke up after my fall…I had a dream in which I was falling through the air. But then a strange large bird, a crow I think it was appeared out of nowhere and spoke to me."  
_

 _"What did it say?" Melara asked curiously.  
_

 _"It said it could teach me how to fly." Bran's voice was hollow as if it were echoing through a long tunnel. "And it had three eyes."  
_

 _"Three eyes?" Melara questioned. "What was the third eye for?"  
_

 _"Knowing," Bran replied. "It saw things….with that that eye. Things that its other two didn't."  
_

 _Melara could feel the questions pouring out of her but with an effort she held them back until Bran had finished his story. "And then?"  
_

 _"Then I woke up, but I had a strange feeling that somehow the crow had helped me wake up but I don't know how. And then….then when the bannermen came to Winterfell for the harvest feast, I had another dream. It was a dream about a weirwood tree like the ones in this grove but it had deep red eyes and a twisted wooden mouth and the crow that I had dreamt about before was sitting in its branches. It didn't….It didn't say anything, but its two white eyes weren't watching me, only the black one in the middle of its forehead did."  
_

 _"Have you had any other dreams like that?" Melara asked.  
_

 _"None like that," Bran said looking terribly shaken, and the brunette felt for him. She had never seen a crow in her dreams but she had seen Green Men. It seems they had both been touched by things beyond their understanding.  
_

 _As they pondered this new knowledge in silence, it was suddenly shattered with a loud and startling noise.  
_

 _It was the sound of a bird cawing.  
_

 _Bran jerked visibly in his chair and looked about wildly while Melara had jumped to her feet, hands reaching instinctively for the long knives she kept with her before realizing that they weren't there.  
_

 _The sound came again but this time it was closer and when they both looked up at the heart tree they were sitting before, both were astonished to see a large black bird sitting in its branches.  
_

 _Bran gave a startled gasp and leaned back in his chair as far as he could go. "That's it. That's the bird."  
_

 _Melara instead of standing stalk still paused for a moment and then slowly walked towards the tree so she might get a better look at the creature.  
_

 _"What are you doing?" Bran hissed.  
_

 _"We aren't going to get answers just sitting here are we?" she asked. "And if you're raven can talk, then maybe it can answer some of our questions."  
_

 _She had no sooner taken two steps however when the world turned upside down and she landed on her back with a thump.  
_

 _The sky spun before her eyes dizzying her and faintly out of the darkness she could hear Bran calling her name, asking her if she was alright.  
_

 _"I'm….I'm fine," she managed. But it was a few minutes before the world stopped spinning and she felt she could look around without feeling nauseous.  
_

 _"What happened?" she asked as she slowly sat up.  
_

 _"I don't know," Bran said sounding as incredulous as she felt. "All I saw was you taking two steps towards the tree and the raven and then it felt as if the world had turned upside down."  
_

 _Slowly Melara sat up and looked around, testing her ankles and wrists and the back of her head to make sure she hadn't sustained an injury landing flat on her back like that.  
_

 _It was only when she had done so that she heard a familiar but chilling noise.  
_

 _It was the rushing of a river.  
_

 _And not all rivers sounded alike. For instance, the river that the bridge at the Twins was suspended over was no great highway of transport. Its sound was quieter and more easily indistinguishable from all the other sounds of a forest such as the wind blowing through the trees or the chirps of distant birds.  
_

 _This river however was loud and demanded attention. It sounded far wider and more powerful than the one she had grown up around.  
_

 _The stream in the forest where she often gathered moon stones was about a fifteen minute walk from the Twins and sounded like the tinkling of bells across a series of rocks.  
_

 _It was peaceful.  
_

 _But this river…it had a purpose.  
_

 _And it was one that was all too familiar.  
_

 _Slowly the brunette got to her feet and glanced behind her, coming face to face with a river that was perhaps fifty feet across and she didn't know how many yards deep. The water was a dark green and every so often a small wave would appear from its surface, crest and then dive back down again only to be replaced by another.  
_

 _She could see the distant trees on the far shore making her feel increasingly isolated from any sort of outside help.  
_

 _Then it was with some consternation that she turned and looked at what was in front of her.  
_

 _The first thing she noticed were the trees.  
_

 _Having grown up around forests and seen knotted trees and stumps and overgrown shrubs, Melara knew what an average tree looked like.  
_

 _But she had also been in the godswood in the Twins more than once and knew what weirwood trees looked like and what heart trees looked like.  
_

 _And that was exactly what she was confronted with now.  
_

 _Her first look at this strange forest was to see a twisted gnarled face embedded into the trunk of the first weirwood.  
_

 _A moment later the brunette realized that every tree along the shoreline had different faces carved into their trunks.  
_

 _It was a forest of weirwood trees.  
_

 _"Where are we?" Bran asked in an awed voice.  
_

 _"Well," Melara said as she looked around carefully feeling chills rise on the back of her arms. "I think given the trees, the forest and the river its rather obvious."  
_

 _"You don't think that – "  
_

 _"I don't think…..I know."  
_

 _They fell into silence for a moment both looking around and taking in this place that they never thought they would see.  
_

 _Melara hardly dared believe it herself even though she had seen this place before in a dream. Seeing it from the river and seeing it from the shore were two completely different things.  
_

 _"What do you think we should do?" she asked.  
_

 _Bran hesitated for a moment. "I don't know. It seems as if we're here for a reason."  
_

 _She nodded. "But what? I'm not sure walking into that woods right now is – "  
_

 _All of a sudden, she was cut off when there came the shrill harsh cry of a crow, similar to the call they had heard when they were still in Winterfell.  
_

 _Melara's head jerked up so fast that she felt certain she twisted something in her neck and winced in pain.  
_

 _A moment later though her darting eyes focused on the weirwood tree several trees down from the one she was standing in front of and saw a large black bird sitting in the upper branches.  
_

 _"Look," Bran whispered pointing. "It's the same bird."  
_

 _All of a sudden there was a flash of light and Melara glanced down below at the face carved into the tree and sucked in a breath.  
_

 _"It's glowing," Bran murmured. "Why are its eyes glowing?"  
_

 _Melara opened her mouth to answer but found that no sound came out for the dark red eyes of the weirwood tree were glowing and it looked both terrifying and compelling at the same time.  
_

 _The glowing continued to grow brighter and brighter until there was nothing else but red and Melara had to cover her eyes.  
_

 _She felt a searing in the back of her head and she might have heard Bran cry out but she wasn't sure.  
_

 _It was suddenly hot too….it began to become hotter and hotter and then –_

With a half strangled cry Melara flew up on her bed in her chamber in the Twins, the sheets knotted around her and her skin damp with sweat.

Her heart was pounding and her mouth felt dry, tongue clinging to the roof of it as she gazed wildly into the darkness of the room.

Bran….she had met Bran Stark, Robb's little brother….and she had been in Winterfell. The two had spoken of their shared dreams and she had told him of the war. And….And there had been a crow….and suddenly they were on a strange shore whose name they knew but they didn't dare speak aloud.

The process of the dream flittered through her mind half a dozen times before another coherent thought could be filtered in.

What did it all mean?

That had been the most vivid dream she had had yet and the first time she had met another person in it.

Obviously Bran was as tied up in this as she was and in order to get to the bottom of it, they needed to do what she had suggested and get to the….the Isle of Faces….for that was where they had been.

She was sure of it.

And they needed to do it before her wedding in a few weeks.

There was no telling how long they needed to stay there but she knew it would have to be a while in order to get all of their questions answered.

If they could be answered that was.

A sudden dark thought occurred to Melara about whether or not the root of these dreams had negative connotations but she brushed it quickly aside.

While the presence of the crow they had seen was chilling…she could tell that the creature had meant them no harm.

Its third eye was unnerving however, she needed to know if Bran's explanation was truly the one or if the eyes represented something else.

But the brunette also didn't think it could be anything else but a representation of knowledge.

And they needed to know why it had appeared to both of them.

Slowly and almost feeling a little too wired to sleep, Melara lay down and pulled the blanket more firmly about herself.

She wasn't sure if she would get any more sleep that night what with the vision she had, but she knew she needed to try.

Melara suddenly had a terrible feeling that she wasn't going to be getting a lot of sleep in the coming weeks.

Ω

 _Of all the terrible ideas that old weasel has, this has to be the worst!_

A week after her strange dream and her ethereal meeting of Bran and the crow, Melara found herself standing atop a pedestal while the seamstress pinned up the hem of her too long wedding dress.

The day after her dream, Walder Frey had received word that Robb Stark and his army would be returning to Riverrun as Tywin Lannister had terms of peace he wished to discuss and that their wedding would take place within two fortnights.

He had been beside himself with glee, even more so than usual.

Melara had rolled her eyes at his antics…but then she usually did that as that was all that the man deserved.

And so here she was, being stuck with pins having the waistline of a dress brought in that she would never wear anywhere else.

 _Wouldn't something practical have been too much to ask?_

She had patience for many things but standing still for hours while an old fussy woman in an old cotton dress that looked like it had seen too many winter fussed over things like hem lines, neck lines and fabric type was enough to make any saint scream.

And Melara was no saint.

To add insult to injury, all of her sisters were present at this fitting, each lending their own opinions about what needed to be done.

The brunette had no idea why they had chosen to be here now in this place.

Actually she did know. The older women like Walda missed no chance to be catty and give their opinions where they weren't wanted.

To Melara's relief, Roslin was feeling better and was sitting in a chair in the far corner watching the proceedings with a practiced eye.

Some color had come back to her cheeks and there was less stress in her eyes.

Melara only hoped that whatever fresh wind had been given to her sister would continue to blow.

But in the meantime, she was eyeing the flock of chatty birds sitting around her and making comments on her dress while she seethed.

"It's a lovely color sister," Arwyn said sweetly. "It matches your eyes perfectly."

Arwyn was Walder's sixth daughter by Annara Farring and two years younger than Melara but she was one of the few of the brunette's siblings that she found tolerable.

Maybe it was because she was young and hadn't inherited the bite of the older ones.

"But it does make you look terribly pale," Tyta said. "Robb Stark should take care to ensure he is not marrying a wraith."

Some of the other girls tittered a bit at the jape but Melara merely rolled her eyes. "Very original Tyta. How many days did you spend thinking of that one while you were shut up in your tower thinking of the husband father will choose for _you?_ If he ever does that is. It seems the matter has slipped his mind."

Tyta's face turned a very unflattering red.

She was Walder's fourth daughter and a virgin close to the age of thirty, she was known as Tyta the Maid.

Sometimes she got a bit too snippety for her own good and Melara had to remind her that for all the things she thought she had, there was more that she didn't. Granger might have called it rude or mean spirited but to Melara it was just business. Every single member of her family had been sizing the other up since birth to see how much of a threat they would be when they were older.

And since Melara was beautiful, she had drawn more attention and more antagonism as she was seen as a threat.

But it was nothing she hadn't handled in Slytherin house before.

And most of these girls had the combined intelligence of Millicent Bulstrode.

It was sometimes fun rubbing them the wrong way.

"Now now," Merianne said putting a hand on Tyta's shoulder before she could jump up and say something stupid. "This is a happy day. Melara's marriage should be a joyous occasion. We should be celebrating."

Melara eyed Merianne. She was the daughter of Whalen Frey, her father's fourteenth son and thus her niece. She had always been a sort of peacemaker and was one of the other few children from her father's offspring that she could tolerate.

"Yes quite right," Tysane Frey said with a tiny bit of a bite in her voice. "Your time will come Tyta."

A few of the other girls tittered again and Melara sighed.

Tysane was another niece, the daughter of Lothar Frey, her father's twelfth son.

Sometimes she had no idea how she managed to keep track of them all.

But she knew she had to otherwise there might come a day when one of them would try to stab her in the back.

It was kill or be killed in this family.

"Well I think you look beautiful Mel," Ryella said with a small smile. She was only ten years old and was gazing up at her aunt's dress with a look of awe on her face.

Melara smiled back at the dark haired girl. _How Hosteen turned out such a lovely girl from his seed, I will never know. He is one of the stupidest of the lot. All the credit for the girl's sweetness has to go to her mother. I'm convinced that all of the sweetness in this family was stamped out at an early age. I'll have to keep an eye on her._

"Thank you Rye," she said using her nickname for the girl. "But I'm glad I only have to wear it once.

"I think it shows a little too much skin," Lythene sniffed. "We don't want to give the King in the North the wrong idea."

"And what idea is that?" Melara asked raising an eyebrow at her.

"Your entire back is practically exposed!" Lythene replied. "You won't be able to wear something like that in the north. You would freeze to death! What would the king think?"

"I'm sure Robb Stark would not care one way or another," Melara replied in a bored tone. "This is a marriage of convenience, nothing more nothing less."

"You're marrying a king," Elyana Vypren said with a touch of superiority. "I'd hardly say that's nothing."

Zia Frey sniffed. "He's barely a king. A green boy who can barely hold onto his own lands is no king I daresay."

Melara bristled at the snipe against Robb but she forced herself to remain calm. He may have been an honorable idiot at times but she still cared about him.

"I would take care with what you say Zia," she said coolly as the seamstress bade her turn again. "A young king he may be, but still a king. And a queen there will be soon also. And this house will be allied to House Stark. We wouldn't want any….treasonous thoughts now would we?"

A dangerous silence fell in the room at the threat. Zia turned red but said nothing and Melara couldn't be sure that her color was embarrassment or anger.

Some of her nieces were sweet and others….well let's just say that many bore watching.

"Does little Melara care for her husband to be?" Walda asked. "I didn't think you had it in you to be sentimental sister.

"Don't be absurd, I've never met the man," Melara replied with a dismissive air so as not to give anything away. "But loyalty is something I do know. Isn't that what father's always telling us?"

"And since when do you care so much about loyalty?" Walda challenged.

"Oh will the lot of you shut up," Emberlei muttered as she pored over her stitches. "You're as chatty as a flock of birds and about as intelligent. Why don't you talk about something interesting for once?"

"Very well then Ember, enlighten us," Kyra Frey said with a smug smile. "What would you like to talk about?"

The conversation then turned to other things and Melara caught the eye of Roslin in the corner. The younger girl gave her a small smile but said nothing to which Melara returned.

She was looking forward to the day when she would no longer have to sit in a room like this and listen to the asinine chatter of a gaggle of women who had no idea what was happening beyond their own walls.

There would come a time however when she would wish for the normalcy of gossip.

Ω

"I feared he would take it badly," Robb sighed.

"Aye so did I," Perwyn said. "And yet it had to be done. More men would have died if Lannister wasn't returned to the fold."

 _And yet I've lost a loyal bannerman and supporter of my father,_ Robb thought with dismay.

Lord Karstark had taken his men and his remaining son and returned north to the Karhold, claiming he could not serve a king who wouldn't give him his just vengeance.

In this instance though, Robb was caught between a rock and a hard place. If he gave Rickard what he wanted the war would continue.

Better one man be angry than for the whole army to suffer.

They were only a fortnight from Riverrun and Robb was simply anxious to hand over Lannister, sign terms of peace with his father and return to ruling his own lands.

He was weary of war.

 _This is what I signed on for when my men declared me king,_ he thought to himself. _But I wish it didn't have to be this difficult. Father why did you not train me more for leadershi? I was barely out of boyhood when you rode south. And now I am a king. I wonder what you would think of me now._

A moment later he thought of Melara and absently wished for her presence. As sharp as she could be, he had a feeling she would think he was doing the right thing.

Now if only he could think that way as well.

Ω

 _Two days ride from Riverrun….._

"Are we almost there?" the young girl with the too short hair asked.

"No brat," the large man said. "And if you ask again, I'll gag you for the rest of the way so you won't ask any more damn questions. As soon as your uncle has a hold of you then you can ask all the questions you please because I won't be around to hear them."

The little brown haired girl sniffed. Deep down she hoped this worked. She had been on the run for months now and even the list she whispered to herself in the middle of the night wasn't enough to stop the desire for a soft bed and a bath.

She just hoped that for once she would meet a friendly face there when all she had met before were angry strangers.

Ω

 **And there we have it! Things are beginning to heat up. Sorry for the long wait. The holidays have been very busy and I'm only beginning to catch up with my stories now. Hopefully the wait for the next chapter won't be as long. Don't forget to review and happy reading everyone!**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

 _Could this damn caravan go any faster?!_

Grateful as she was to have her own wheelhouse with just her and Roslin and a sleeping Ryella, Melara was feeling a little impatient at their slow plodding process across the roads towards Riverrun.

She and the rest of the Frey's had departed from the Twins a few days previously and during that time, the brunette and her younger sister and niece had most likely been left alone. All of her sisters, aunts and nieces occupied their own wheelhouses but a portion of them had been left behind at the Twins because Old Walder had deemed them unnecessary or useless to come for the royal wedding.

Melara didn't much care about who from her own family would be attending other than her sister, her brothers and some of her younger sweeter nieces and nephews.

Ben's wife and twin children would not be able to attend as both were feeling poorly. Melara would be sad not to see them, but she had an idea that when she was situated back in Winterfell she would like to move her youngest niece and nephew closer to the keep.

She hadn't spent too much time thinking over her future plans however as she was too concerned with what was to happen in the next few weeks that was outside of her plans completely.

Robb would no doubt be at Riverrun at this time awaiting the Frey party, the rest of his army and the Lannisters.

Just thinking of that particular family caused the hairs on the backs of Melara's arms to stand on end. She wasn't afraid of them but she was certain that like Robb she was anxious for this to be over and done with.

The Slytherin part of her understood that this political game they were playing would never be truly done. The Lannisters were likely to ever forget the blows they had been dealt by Robb in the war which meant they would need to look over their shoulder every so often.

But that was a small price to pay for peace and Melara was willing to pay it.

"Are you nervous?"

The brunette blinked and glanced up at her younger sister who had been silent for the last few hours just sewing and looking out the window. "What?"

"I asked if you were nervous," the other dark haired girl said. "In a fortnight or so you're going to be married and you're not even seventeen. Does that make you nervous?"

Melara shrugged. "To be honest I hadn't really thought about it."

This wasn't strictly untrue, Melara had never paused to consider what married life to Robb Stark would be like because for her there had been too much going on.

What with the war in the background, her strange dreams and visions brought to the fore which included her meeting with Bran, along with her tenuous relationship with the king in question just recently being resolved and the pressures of her own family and the wedding itself, something as mundane as married life just hadn't been on her mind.

Compared to everything that had happened lately it seemed a little boring. And when she had had some form of down time she had always retreated to her sanctuary which was lotion brewing.

And speaking of such things she was still waiting for the bloody Veritaserum potion she had created to go through its full lunar cycle before it could be useful.

A part of her had hoped it would be ready before her wedding and while it was possible it was still no longer likely.

"Why haven't you thought about it?" Roslin asked curiously. "Being married isn't something to be taken likely."

The other brunette sighed, "because I've had more on my mind Ros. The Lannisters are coming to Riverrun. All being well, Jaime Lannister will go back with them and the war will be at an end. I think I'd like to get through the next few weeks first before I settle into something as blissfully normal as being a married woman."

"But you won't be a normal married woman," Roslin said dreamily. "You'll be a Queen. There's nothing normal about that."

"No," Melara replied looking out the wheelhouse window. "I don't suppose there is."

"What do you think being a queen will be like?"

"I don't know," the brunette replied. "But I imagine it will be quite dull. A lot of politics and ego stroking. Much like what father does."

"Yes but he's not very god at it," Roslin muttered prompting her older sister to raise an eyebrow at her. "Did you just make a joke Roslin Frey?"

To her surprised delight the other girl smirked at her. "I have been known to make them from time to time."

Melara chuckled and looked back out the window. "Father wants me to be a queen for political reasons. He's obsessed with furthering the family name. And now that whatever children Robb Stark and I will have will be part Frey, he thinks it will give him some sort of influence."

"But it will," Roslin said with a frown. "His future grandson will sit on the throne in the north."

"He may think he will have influence but I don't plan to give him any," Melara muttered. "Whatever children I have with the king in the north he will never see and he will never touch. He will know nothing other than their names which go out when they are born. They will never set foot inside the Twins nor will they ever know many of the acerbic rabble we have been raise with. All my children should I have them in a timely manner will only know our brothers and you and some of the children of those unfortunate people we call relatives. Ryella here for example. And if the gods are good whatever children I have will come after the old man's death and not before."

Roslin was staring at her as if she had never seen her before and Melara winced. Outside of her brothers she had never voiced her discontent with Walder Frey in such a manner and she was just glad that Ryella was sleeping. She was a sweet child but if she were to ever hear about this Melara didn't trust completely that she wouldn't let it slip to someone else in their family by accident.

"You truly detest him don't you?" Roslin asked in a half whisper and Melara stared stonily out the window of the wheelhouse. "Yes….Yes I do. I hate that it was his actions that killed our mother, I hate how he is so thoughtless towards the women of his own house and I hate them for letting him be that way."

Roslin fell silent for a moment before she shocked Melara to her core by whispering similar words. "So do I."

Melara blinked and took her sister in for a long moment. "You do?"

Roslin looked up from her stitching and it was as if Melara was staring into obsidian. "Yes….I do. I have for a very long time but no one will ever know because he only notices those children who can get him the most power. I'm surprised that none of our siblings have tried to assassinate him yet."

Melara paused to consider some of her own half siblings especially Tyta in particular and felt a sense of irony come over her. "If things progress the way they have, perhaps that thought will come true. For right now, all of our siblings need him. As soon as all of the Frey females have been married off, no one will need him any more and his life will be cut short. If he doesn't die by that time."

Roslin glanced out the window of the wheelhouse. "We should be careful. If what we're talking about gets out it will spread like wildfire. I don't know what father would do to me if he caught me saying treasonous things."

Melara snorted. "Its hardly treasonous to want to put a sick dog down."

She sobered in the next instant. "Besides, after the wedding you won't have to worry about him any longer."

Roslin frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that once I am a queen, none of my true siblings will ever set foot in the Twins again. They will all come north with me. I intend to bring Ben's wife and the twins as well. As far away as they are from old Walder's poison the better."

"I don't think father would like that," Roslin said fearfully.

"I don't give a rat's arse what he would like," Melara said with deadly promise. "He won't be making the decisions anymore."

Roslin's expression had changed to one of suspicious hope. "You would really take me north with you?"

"You're my sister, of course I would," Melara said indignantly. "We've all suffered under the mad man's hand, but none more so than you. He belittles you and mocks you whenever he can and half the time I'm not around because he knows I will say something. I'm not going to give him the chance to let you be his punching bag for the rest of your life. You'll come north with me and our brothers and hopefully there will be a nice quiet lord of a minor house that you will marry and live out your days by the fire raising children, sewing, singing and dancing because I know those are your favorite things to do."

Roslin's dark eyes expanded to consume almost half her face. "Do you truly mean it?"

"I do."

In the next instant, Roslin surprised her older sister by throwing her sewing down and flinging herself across the small space of the wheelhouse into her arms. "Thank you, oh thank you!"

Melara stiffened in surprise for a moment before hesitantly wrapping her arms around her sister. "You're welcome."

They remained silent for a time just holding each other before Roslin whispered something that shocked Melara.

"Do you promise that I will never have to go back there?"

The older brunette blinked in surprise and pulled back so she could look into Roslin's face. Shining there she saw fear, sadness, dismay and an undisguised hope that burned so brightly it was hard to look at. In that moment Melara wished she could promise a thousand things to her younger sister and that they would all come true just so she could continue to see that smile on the girl's face, a smile that had been absent like sunshine was behind clouds for far too long.

"I promise," she replied but she had a feeling she was promising something far more than just taking her sister away from an unhappy home.

This was a promise that was binding and forever like the one she had made to herself when Roslin had been born and she had the responsibility of being an older sibling as it was something she had never had to do before.

She remembered looking down into the small face when she had crawled onto her mother's bed a year after she herself had been born and had looked down at Roslin. The adult in that one year old child knew that to have a younger sibling was a responsibility. And it was one she took even more seriously after Bethany Rosby had died.

Roslin smiled and this time it was a true smile and it made her plain face appear beautiful for a long moment. "You've always been my protector and I've never thanked you for it."

Melara grinned and smoothed the younger girls hair back from her face. "I'm your older sister. It's what I'm supposed to do."

Ω

 _Riverrun….._

Robb and his army thundered through the gates of his mother's childhood keep to cries of the young wolf from the surrounding peasants.

The cry had been sent up since he had come down the main section of the River Road several hours before and it had gladdened him to see that many in his new realm didn't think him a total failure for not having stormed King's Landing and speared the heads of the Lannisters on pikes on the walls of the city.

But time had taught him that all the small folk were really concerned with was peace and a chance to live their lives without the threat of war constantly on their minds. As long as the Lannister army left their lands and they never had to return to a realm which was ruled by King Joffrey, they did not care whether the war was won by one side or lost by another.

The wheelhouse bearing his mother and sister rode in just behind him and soon the courtyard was filled with the sounds of neighing horses, officers shouting orders and rushing stable hands and groomsmen to take hold of the reins.

Groomsmen locked the wheels of the carriage and Robb vaulted off his own horse before traveling around to the door of it to open it and help his mother and sister out.

Sansa was first a look of such relief on her beautiful face that Robb realized with stark clarity how difficult the last few months in the capital had been on her and he gritted his teeth, wondering once again if he was right for agreeing to meet with the Lannisters. Surely his sister's tormenter shouldn't go unpunished.

A moment later with one hand against her stomach and the other bracing her enlarged framed against the door of the carriage came Lady Catelyn. She too looked around the courtyard with a measure of relief that he had not seen since she had been back in Winterfell and she and father had been looking down on Bran's first lesson in archery.

His throat constricted for a moment as he remembered simpler time and place before he swallowed the beginnings of the lump and turned back towards the keep.

"Your grace!"

Robb turned around to find two familiar people hurrying down the steps of the main keep towards him. One was maester Vyman, the old man who had tended to his grandfather before his passing and who had helped to raise his mother and her two siblings when they were children.

The other was Ser Brynden Tully who had taken his own reserve force and arrived before his nephew Edmure only a few days before. He had apparently been annoyed with his nephew for his failure to heed the king's plans but it seemed for naught now. The Lannisters would come, terms would be agreed upon, contracts would be signed and hopefully peace would be achieved.

Wartime mistakes and petty grudges would have to be let go for the good of the realm. If there was one thing Robb had had enough of it was both of those things.

He clasped arms with his great Uncle and nodded to Maester Vyman who gave him a stiff bow.

"Your grace," the maester managed to gabble out, "you must come and see, it is quite extraordinary – "

"Slow down maester," the young king said. "What is – "

"Robb?"

In the next instant he froze at the sound of a familiar voice that he had been certain he would never hear again. Turning as if he were a puppet on a string the young wolf looked to the top of the steps of the great keep to see a small figure standing there. Whoever it was, was attired in boy's clothes and tall muddy boots with shorn brown hair and piercing grey eyes that were all too familiar.

She was far skinnier than the last time Robb had seen her and her the way her clothes hung on her spoke to that but apart from a few scratches and bruises and scrapes on her face she was well, she was whole….and was there.

His little sister.

"Arya?" Robb breathed hardly daring to believe it and fearing she was a mirage that would disappear as soon as her name was voiced.

But in the next instant the young girl demonstrated that she was not a mirage nor a phantom for the paralysis that had held her captive for one moment was thrown off in the next and she broke from her surprised stupor and ran down the steps of the keep two at a time nearly tripping in order to leap into his arms.

She didn't have to go far however for he met her halfway and as she flung herself forward, he opened his arms wide to receive her, embracing her with all the strength he had as he had worried that he wouldn't be able to do so again.

She was all skin and bones in the familiar way he had referred to her as before. Her arms wrapped so tight around him he was certain he would never breathe again but that was alright. She was dirty and frightened and tired and sad but again….she was here.

"Arya," he whispered into her hair for it was all he could say without losing control of his tightly wound emotions. "Arya."

There was a strangled sob from somewhere behind him and suddenly he felt another pair of arms wrap around the both of them, knowing it was Sansa and he opened his arms to her as well, drawing her into them so he might be as close to both of them as possible. Sansa was weeping and making no effort to hold back her tears as the last of her worry about everything that had happened peeled off her shoulders and floated away into thin air. For the moment she had no worries and no cares as the last member of her family that had been unaccounted for was returned to her whole and unharmed.

Following this another pair of arms embraced the both of them, stomach quite reaching her three children first and her cries were much less controlled than Sansa's for she had suffered terrible emotional grief in knowing that her only daughters were prisoners of those who had mistreated them.

And here was the last lamb, safe and sound somehow returned to them by means of mystery. But Catelyn didn't care. Her emotions had been tightly wound for months now and it would be perfectly understandable for her to break down completely.

The four Starks held each other for a long time, each lost in their own haze of grief and joy at seeing each other again. Finally all had been returned to them in the form of each other and not since word had been received of his father's death did Robb truly feel he had every reason to smile.

His brothers were safe in Winterfell and his sisters had been returned to him quite mysteriously. It almost seemed to be the work of magic the way everything had turned out.

Magic…..

A moment later he blinked, his thoughts whirling two and fro like a ship tossed on turbulent waters. Sansa had been returned mysteriously, as had Arya. In many way both cases couldn't be explained.

Until a strange explanation had been given to him several weeks before in the form of a dark haired maiden with a sharp tongue.

Suddenly Melara's face jumped to the forefront of his mind and it all made sense. He would have cursed himself then and there for not thinking of it before had he not been in the company of his two sisters and his mother.

How could he have been such an idiot and not put the clues together? And why the bloody hell hadn't she said anything when she was still with him?!

"You're here sweet girl, you're here," Catelyn wept clinging to Arya as if she would disappear if she let her go.

It was a credit to how much Arya missed her mother that she didn't squirm in the least and instead hung on to her mother as if she were a lifeline.

Robb somehow received a moment of clarity in order to step back from his two sisters and mother who were embracing and turned towards Vyman with narrowed eyes. "Explain this maester. How is it that my sister has come to be here?"

The old man shuffled for a moment as if uncomfortable. "That is the strangest part your grace. A number of hours ago she turned up with an armored man who was horribly scarred. Many believed it be Sandor Clegane, the former shield of King Joffrey but many did not get a good enough look at him in order to say."

"It was him," the Blackfish rumbled. He had been strangely quiet throughout the entirety of the family reunion, watching over it with an odd look on his face. "I'd recognize those scars anywhere."

Robb whirled to Arya who was getting her sniffling under control and wiping her somewhat grubby face. "How is it that you turned up in the company of the Hound Arya?"

"He got a hold of me after I escaped Harrenhal," the girl said with a note of bitterness.

"Harrenhal?" Catelyn gasped. "How on earth did you end up in that foul place?"

"It's a long story," the girl said.

"I think so," Robb said with some irony. "And I do believe we need to hear it but after everyone has been fed and watered. But rest assured, I will be told all."

Ω

"Has everyone around me gone mad?!" the young king screamed and Cersei rubbed her temples. She was beginning to get a headache. "We will have no parley with the north. I want Robb Stark's head on a platter and I want it now!"

"It is too late for that my son," she said for what felt like the umpteenth time. "Your grandfather has drawn up the terms and is riding to meet Robb Stark at Riverrun as we speak. We don't have Sansa Stark anymore so we have nothing left to bargain with. Your grandfather is trying to salvage the kingdom."

"We are Lannisters, we don't salvage anything!" Joffrey shouted banging his fists on the surface of the table in the small council chambers. "We are lions, people bow to us!"

"They will still bow," Cersei said in an effort to placate him. He had been carrying on about this decision for the past half of an hour and nothing she said seemed to calm him down. Of course she seemed to be lacking that ability in recent days. It had been hard to control him since news of Sansa Stark's disappearance had rocked the keep.

Joffrey had flown into an unholy rage and ordered every servant who had ever been with Sansa since she had arrived in the capital to appear before him. Of course all of them denied have assisted in her escape but he hadn't believed them.

Half had been executed within the day and now the rest of the palace servants were running scared. Some were still down in the Black Cells awaiting their own trials of a sort but Cersei had a feeling that torturing them was just to keep Joffrey amused after what he viewed as a serious loss to his power and a grievous embarrassment from the Battle of Blackwater.

Even the victory from that battle had turned to ashes in her mouth as she realized that Stannis Baratheon wasn't the true threat.

When news of Casterly Rock's reeving from the Ironborn had reached her ears, Cersei had almost torn her hair out in a rage.

The thought of those filthy squidlings befouling the place of her birth had caused a red curtain to descend over her eyes. Thankfully her father had repelled them in recent weeks but their reputation had suffered a serious blow when the keep had fallen.

Now they were seen as fallible, now Tywin Lannister and his progeny would have to do something drastic in order to win back what they had lost or they would lose face in front of the realm forever. No one would take them seriously if they lost this war to a man barely out of boyhood.

It was why she had been so shocked when her father had sent word announcing his decision. At first she hadn't wanted to believe it, hadn't wanted to believe that her father would give up so easily.

But then she remembered Jaime and if word got out that Sansa Stark was no longer in their possession their enemies would know they had nothing to bargain with and Jaime's life would no longer be worth anything to them.

And if Jaime were killed…she shuddered unsure of what she would do if that happened. Her brother was her soul mate and her other half. If he died….life would lose all meaning.

"We are getting your Uncle Jaime back," she snapped at the irate king. "Don't you want your Uncle back?"

"Grandfather's stupidity is why Uncle Jaime is Robb Stark's prisoner in the first place!" Joffrey shot back. "If he hadn't sent him on that battle Uncle Jaime wouldn't have been captured!"

 _And if you hadn't called for Ned Stark's head we wouldn't be in this mess,_ came a traitorous thought from deep within the recesses of the queen regent's mind. Before Blackwater she had wondered out loud to Tyrion if having an insane son was the price she and Jaime had had to pay for their relationship.

She was now becoming more and more convinced that that fate was true and she was suffering from an idiotic but mad son.

And that was a dangerous thing.

Just then there was the sound of a throat clearing from the door and Cersei looked up to see a timid looking servant standing there clutching what appeared to be a letter in his hand.

"Well, what is it?" she snapped.

The servant bowed awkwardly. "Forgive me your grace, but a raven has newly arrived for you."

Cersei held out a hand and the servant placed it in her grasp like it were a snake before all but fleeing from the room.

She tore it open, hoping for some form of good news. As her eyes scanned the page, a slight smile decorated it as she read the thinly coded words her father had penned.

Perhaps….Perhaps all was not as dismal as it appeared.

Perhaps Westeros would still hear lions roar…it was just a matter of time.

Ω

 **I apologize for the shortness of this chapter but I was having some writer's block and decided to end it here. The coming chapters will be more interesting, I promise. Don't forget to review!**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

There were days when Melara found her family tolerable and then there were others where all she wanted to do was tie a stone around the neck of each one and kick them into the nearest lake. Times like now.

They were a day's ride from Riverrun and had stopped at a small inn at a town alongside the River road and the river itself. Her tutting half-sisters had gone up to their rooms immediately but her half-brothers, a goodly portion of them had immediately buried themselves at the lower part of the inn and were now on a third round making them raucous and hard to manage. She knew it wasn't any of her business but their loud horse like laughter was beginning to grate on her and she was finding it hard to sleep.

Roslin, may Merlin bless her had drifted off to sleep the moment they had arrived which betrayed how tired she was.

Though Melara didn't know how she had become so exhausted. It wasn't as if she had spent the day walking alongside the wheelhouse, although Melara herself had dearly wanted to do it if it would allow her a chance to clear her head.

She was going to be married in around a week and at sixteen too. That sort of thing made one think a lot about what it was that they wanted. She, who was so independent and fiercely protective would now share a life, a throne, a crown, a land, a bed and her body with someone else.

Though that last part didn't sound so bad.

Messengers had arrived a few hours earlier while they were still on the road to inform her decrepit father that Robb Stark and his army had arrived at Riverrun and were preparing to meet with the Lannisters.

Old Walder seemed pleased with the news and ordered the Frey party to continue.

Melara could tell that he was eager to proceed with the wedding, but then which man wouldn't be pleased that his daughter was marrying a king in this world?

Old Walder Frey probably thought the world was being handed to him on a silver platter. He would soon be in for a rude awakening however if he thought he was getting something out of this marriage.

The brunette rolled over and punched her pillow for what seemed like the umpteenth time, trying to beat it into submission.

The pillow seemed to be winning the fight however and sleep would not be the victor on this night.

Huffing, Melara sat up and threw back the woolen coverlet, setting her feet down on the cold wooden floor.

 _It's too stuffy in here,_ she thought irritably to herself before getting up. _I need to clear my head._

With that in mind, she strode across the room and took her cloak down from where it was hanging on the hook. Wrapping it about her shoulders she took one last look at

Roslin and then donned her boots, stepping outside and then muttering some charms for the room door to lock and that no one unfriendly would open it.

With that completed she took a deep breath and hurried silently down the long wooden hallway towards the stairs.

The sight of many a drunken and sleeping Frey greeted her when she reached the bottom of the staircase and she curled her lower lip in disgust.

Some of her half-brothers were leaning over the tables, heads resting on their arms. Others lying _atop_ the tables with their mouths open and snoring so loudly she was certain the rest of the village would be able to hear them.

 _Pigs,_ she thought in disgust as she headed for the door of the inn. _All of them._

The air inside was stale and as soon as she stepped outside of it into the quiet night Melara breathed a sigh of relief.

The town that they had stopped in was reasonably sleepy and at this time of the night, or perhaps she should call it the early morning, no one was up and around. There were a few torches burning on metal stands on the walls of certain buildings, but other than that the streets were dark and shadowed.

Perfect for her.

But just in case, Melara whispered the Disillusionment charm to cloak herself in shade before she walked down the streets of the town.

She wasn't sure where she was going as she walked but she did know that she needed to be alone to think.

She hadn't been alone all day and to do so now when it was night time was a bit of a relief.

The brunette didn't stop walking until she had reached the outskirts of town and then faced the road ahead.

For any other young woman going out onto the main roads at the night would be unthinkable. There were plenty of bandits about and they would all take a girl and rape her before she could reach help.

Melara curled her lower lip in disgust. There were times when she couldn't believe that she had grown up for sixteen years surrounded by the sort of Muggles she had always been warned away from. She had told they were dirty and disgusting, barbaric in mind and body because they didn't possess the sort of magic that would bring them to a higher state of being.

Her magic had been something she was insanely proud of as Pansy Parkinson and she still was immensely. For one reason, it made her right and Granger wrong about how

Muggles weren't as bad as Pansy had thought they were.

But the general collective of Westeros proved every single point that Pansy had ever been told. They were immoral, barbaric, thoughtless, cruel, selfish jealous and a host of other qualities that appalled and disgusted her.

More than once Melara had turned the _cruciatus_ curse on her half brothers because of their immoral actions, most commonly taking advantage of the serving girls in the Twins.

No one had ever seen her do it, but she had made certain that they felt it and remembered it so that they wouldn't do it again.

She hadn't stopped her brothers because she had felt any sort of love for the serving girls, she still thought herself better than them, but because many of her family were more animals driven by instincts than humans.

 _If you want to train a dog you have to beat the willfulness out of them,_ she thought to herself grimly as she walked. _And I think many of the members of House Frey are more animal than human._

One of the many things Pansy Parkinson had despised was weakness and to a certain extent she still did. When one couldn't help it well then that was different, she had evolved to the point where she wasn't as mocking as she was before. But the amount of weakness that was evident in this world was appalling to her.

In many ways she held onto these old qualities jealously as they were some of the few things that reminded her of her old life.

Thankfully her appearance hadn't changed much allowing the brunette to retain some connection to Pansy Parkinson.

Without a backward glance she turned and strode from the town into the woods. In the back of her mind she knew she wanted to get towards the river as it was where she was the calmest so that was the direction she headed in.

Keeping to the side of the road, the brunette soon departed from it altogether and walked off among the tall twisted trees of the Riverlands.

They had been coming south from the Twins and so the weather had been gradually growing warmer and warmer allowing her to shed more and more layers.

In a way she was glad the fabric of her wedding dress was as light as it was. Despite her hard exterior and sarcastic personality that was as dry as the sands of Dorne, Melara did like pretty things. That hadn't changed when the name Pansy Parkinson stopped being used.

All of a sudden her ears picked up the distant trickle of water and a small smile quirked her lips upwards.

Her steps over the grassy knolls and protruding roots in the dark forest became more and more sure until she was forging fearlessly ahead.

Before long her path led her through a grove of trees and around a large stone until she came within sight of a dip in the ground leading down to a silver ribbon which cut through the land like a sword.

Sitting before it was a large square stone that was perfect for sitting upon and Melara's self-satisfied smile grew larger.

Without fear, she hurried towards it and seated herself primly upon its cold surface, pulling down the hood of her thin cloak.

For a time she sat quietly in the light of the silvery moon not thinking of anything and not feeling anything.

Though she had never had a penchant for meditation there was something therapeutic about the water and the moonlight.

A moment later reality crept back in however.

In a week or so her wedding would take place, the negotiations with the Lannisters would be complete and she would be heading north to Winterfell and her husband's home.

She would be a queen.

A brief but grim smirk flashed across Melara's face as she pictured how a younger her in a different life would have reacted to this news.

She had tried so hard to be the new Slytherin queen with Draco Malfoy as her king before her fifth year of school and she had almost managed it as well.

And then Granger had flounced down the main staircase on the arm of Viktor bloody Krum and had stolen all of her thunder.

They had joked about it before all of this had occurred but at the time it had smarted because Pansy had hated the bushy haired bookworm. What gave her the right to have the attention of the most famous man in the wizarding world? What had he seen in that annoying little upstart?

Of course after the war when Pansy and Granger had become friends that particular memory had been shared and they had had a good laugh about it especially since irony had dealt them strange hands.

They were with the person that the other thought they would be spending the rest of their lives with so it made for a humorous and amusing situation.

Just thinking of Ron caused Melara to bite the edge of her lip. She didn't feel guilty about her marriage to Robb, but she did wonder if Ron could see her right now…what would he think?

Would he forgive her for what had happened? Would he show a rare degree of logic and understand that this was the natural progression of things after she had been dead in her own world for sixteen years now?

A part of her wanted desperately to see him and another part of her wanted to forget.

Ron and Robb were about as different as night and day. Robb didn't have Ron's temper but Ron could be nasty when he wanted to be.

On the other hand, they were both stubbornly loyal people which Pansy had feared would come back to bite Ron one day.

It was ironic therefore that her own loyalty had been what had ended her life as the brunette Parkinson.

 _I just hope it doesn't cost Robb his. He needs a crash course in dealing with treacherous people. He hasn't faced enough of them yet to know that sometimes honor needs to take a backseat._

Melara remained lost in thought a few minutes longer when she was startled from the depth of her own mind by the sounds of footsteps.

She remembered that she was disillusioned but her sharp eyes sought out the form of a tall dark shape making its way down towards the river bank.

It was leading a horse and was draped in a long cloak making her think this person was a traveler.

The pair stopped at the edge of the bank and the horse lowered its head to drink, slurping up great mouthfuls of water as if it had been running for a long time.

The rider in the meantime, also knelt down to drink and in doing so pushed the hood of his cloak from his head.

It was then that Melara caught sight of the crest on his cloak and blinked in surprise.

It was the insignia of the Twins.

 _Did I miss something?_ She wondered to herself as she sat there in silence and watched. _Did one of our men take his horse out in the middle of the night?_

It wasn't until he turned around and she caught sight of a dark head and hazel eyes that were quite distinct in the moonlight that she realized who it was.

After ensuring that he was alone, Melara immediately dropped the charm surrounding her and spoke up.

"Ollie?"

The break in silence must have startled the life out of the young man for he gave a most frightful jerk as he turned wildly in her direction.

Without a doubt it was her older brother who peered at her in the moment, obviously wondering who this stranger was sitting on a rock in the dark who just happened to know his name before his eyes widened.

"Mel? Good gods what on earth are you doing here?" he demanded. "Why aren't you back at the inn with everyone else?"

Melara raised an eyebrow. "Pleasant to see you as well brother. I am well thank you for asking."

Ollie rolled his eyes, or at least she thought he did. "You'll pardon my manners if I didn't expect to stumble upon you in the dark by the river when you should have been back at the inn. Why aren't you there?"

Melara shrugged. "I couldn't sleep. Besides, I made sure to let no one see me. The only person I wanted to see me was you and you did."

Ollie muttered something under his breath that sounded a bit like a frustrated omission to the Mother to have mercy.

The brunette rolled her eyes again. "Don't go sounding like Wyn now. He always does that when I do something that he thinks is questionable. I knew what I was doing when I left. Don't you trust me?"

Ollie sighed. "Of course I do. You just startled me is all. I didn't think you would leave the inn and go by yourself anywhere."

Melara snorted. "Ollie what have I been doing for the last few weeks without anyone knowing? Do you know me at all?"

Olyvar blinked at her for a minute, opening and closing his mouth like a fish before be began to laugh which broke the moment of tension. "Very well, your point is duly noted. But you know when you're married you can't really do this anymore."

Melara raised an eyebrow as they faced each other. "Says who? Just because I'll be a queen dos not mean that I need to stop being myself and having fun. My magic won't go away when I become a Stark."

Ollie blinked suddenly. "That reminds me. I have something for you."

"What is it?" the brunette asked.

Instead of answering, her older brother reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out a thickly folded parchment. "Before I rode out, the king quietly asked me to give this to you. He said to read it when you were alone."

Melara's eyes widened in surprise that Robb had thought of her. It was certainly very sweet of him but also altogether Gryffindor.

"That was a bit of a risk giving you that," she said with one eyebrow raised as she took the letter. "Much as I am glad to hear from him, doing things the non-magical way has always been risky. I should have given him some way for us to keep in touch. After all, my magic isn't something that does not have longevity. It won't go away after we're married."

"No it won't," Ollie said sitting down next to her. "But neither will your responsibilities. In fact they will only grow. The North and the Trident is a large area Mel and you're going to have a responsibility to it all. You know that don't you?"

Melara frowned. "Since when did you turn into Wyn? Of course I know how important this will all be. But it hasn't happened yet. Don't worry. And just why are you here anyway? Doesn't Robb have need of you?"

"He sent me back with a contingent of men to provide a bit more of an escort for you along with the letter," her elder brother explained.

Melara wasn't certain if she should be touched by Robb's thoughtfulness or roll his eyes at the blatant display of overprotection.

"That's very kind of him," she said. "But most of the household of the Twins is here. I very much doubt anything is going to happen and if it does, I can handle it."

"I know that and you know that and I am fairly certain he knows that as well. But outside of the handful of us, no one else knows about your magic. I think he's trying to ensure that no one ever will until it is absolutely necessary. We are in the midst of a war after all."

"Not for much longer," Melara replied. "As soon as Lannister is turned loose and we have the contract in our hands, the north and the Trident will be ours and the lions will be off our backs."

"You don't truly believe that do you?" Ollie asked. "That Tywin Lannister will be content to separate the kingdom he has worked so hard to keep?"

"Not for one second," Melara said grimly. "We'll have to watch our backs for the rest of our lives. He is a man with a long memory and he doesn't forget easily. Robb humiliated him by taking his son and holding him captive for weeks. They may not seek revenge now or even a year from now but mark my words, Tywin Lannister won't forget this."

"We'll just have to be on our guard when he comes to Riverrun," Ollie muttered. "I don't think he would be foolish enough to try anything there though. Vengeful as he may be, he is also a brilliant man and I don't think he would try to reach his hand out farther than he can pull it back."

"He's already suffered from the reeving of Casterly Rock by the Greyjoys and their ships, he's got to have a lot more to make up for."

"True, but he also needs to seek vengeance from the Greyjoys, it will simply be a matter of which he gets to first," Ollie continued. "Robb had his son certainly but the Greyjoys invaded and destroyed Casterly Rock before he got there. The Lannisters have suffered a large blow in the eyes of the realm and a part of me thinks he will be going after them in order to salvage his reputation as the most feared Lord in Westeros."

"He can reeve the whole of the Iron Islands for all I care," Melara said waving a hand dismissively, "Balon Greyjoy should have been beheaded and someone better put in his place a long time ago. Perhaps the Reader, Balon is too volatile, stubborn and pigheaded to be a competent leader."

Ollie looked thoughtful. "He did in a way do the young wolf a service when he chose to attack Casterly Rock."

"And I will be thankful for that bit of luck," Melara replied. "But don't count on it happening too often. War is a game of chances and luck and this time thankfully the luck was in our favor."

Ollie rolled his shoulders and sighed as if he were frustrated. "Don't you find it a little annoying how nearly every conversation we have these days is about the war?"

Melara snorted. "What else should we talk about? Nothing else has been happening in the last few months that is as big as this. Nothing else has seemed as important since

you and the rest of our brothers rode off to war."

"Well the war is almost over," Ollie went on, "Don't you think its time to begin thinking about other things?"

"Such as?"

"Well the fact that you're going to be a queen is perhaps something to talk about," Ollie said dryly. "How do you feel about that?"

"You're the second person that has asked me that question lately," Melara pointed out. "First Roslin and now you."

"And what was your answer to her?"

Melara shrugged. "I don't really know. I got to know Robb on a personal level before I would marry him so for me its easier to see myself as a wife now as opposed to a queen."

"You know you'll never be just someone's wife Mel," Ollie said quietly and Melara frowned at him. "I know. But I think I haven't really thought about how I'll be as a queen. In the meantime, every single bird at the Twins has been chirping about what _they_ think."

"Don't pay that any mind," Ollie said sagely. "There are members in our family outside of the six of us that I get along with but most of them not so much. And now with this wedding, everyone is going to have an opinion, everyone is going to have something to say and everyone is going to be wrong. Just don't let it get to you."

"I never have," Melara said, a little surprised by her brother sage advice.

"Good," Ollie said with a surprising amount of vehemence. "After all you're going to be a queen and they won't be. Half of our sisters will never see a match made like this ever again so it is bound to make them bitter."

Melara snorted, thinking of Tyta's scathing remarks a few weeks earlier at her fitting. Everyone had had an opinion then. It had taken a good deal of effort not to crucio almost everyone in that room.

But she had bit her lip and restrained herself.

There might have come a time for that but it wasn't just then.

"I imagine Tyta's face is going to be an interesting shade of green and purple when I walk past her down the aisle," she said, adopting a thoughtful expression and causing Ollie to smirk.

"If we get lucky she might even explode into a million pieces and we won't have to worry about the burial," he quipped back and this time Melara did chuckle.

Their laughter soon faded to silence however as they looked out over the moonlit river which was made especially tranquil by the calm atmosphere.

The stars were out in full force and the brunette could hear crickets chirping along the bank along with the occasional call of a night owl.

It certainly was peaceful.

The reminder of that particular circumstance caused Melara to frown suddenly and turn to her brother. "Have you thought about what you're going to do?"

He frowned back at her. "What do you mean?"

"After this treaty is signed and we all go our separate ways," the brunette continued. "Have you thought about what you'll do after the war?"

Ollie adopted a thoughtful expression. "Not really. I'm not that much older than you Mel, there's still time."

"Do you want to marry?" Melara asked feeling genuinely curious. She loved all of her older brother but seeing as how Ollie had been at the Twins with her and Roslin the longest, she had a special connection with him.

"I don't know," Olyvar replied. "We can't all marry royalty after all and there are times when I've thought of leaving Westeros altogether."

Melara blinked. She hadn't expected _that_ at all. "Really? Why?"

Ollie shrugged. "The realm will be divided and I have no desire to spend the rest of my life in Lannister ruled lands. I also have no desire to remain under Father's thumb and live in the Twins for the rest of my life. I may have to for a time however. You and I both know that Roslin won't survive being at the Twins alone."

He spoke the words with an air of grim promise with made Melara grit her teeth for she could see the truth in them.

But then she remembered her previous conversation with her sister on the way to the inn and smiled slightly. "Well that's something you won't have to worry about."

Ollie looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Roslin won't be going back to the Twins after the wedding," Melara said staring out over the water. "She's coming to Winterfell with me."

Silence reigned for about ten seconds before Ollie broke it in an astonished voice. "Are you serious?"

"I am."

Another even longer followed her omission which was punctuated several times by Ollie running a hand through his hair and letting out several lengthy exhalations prior to some muttered curses.

Finally he spoke. "Father won't like it."

Melara raised an eyebrow and turned to her older brother. "And since when have I ever given a damn about what Father thinks about anything?"

Ollie snorted. "Point taken and I know you of all people have the ability to resist him. Does Roslin want this?"

"You should have seen her eyes when I offered to take her north with me," Melara said quietly. "It was as if she transformed into a different person altogether. A level of peace that I have never seen came over her face as if some burden she was carrying had been lifted from her shoulders. It was then that I knew I had made the right decision."

Ollie nodded as if he were processing the news. "Good. It's good that she'll be out of the Twins. I know Wyn and Will and Ben will all be glad to hear it."

"And while we're on the subject, what do you think those three are going to do?" Melara asked.

"Well I know that Ben has plans to return home for one," Ollie said. "He misses the twins. Will is planning on returning to work as a maester although he's not sure where yet."

"Perhaps he could come north to serve as one," Melara mused.

"Doesn't Winterfell already have a maester?"

"Aye, but he will not live forever and one will have to be sent for eventually. Who better to fill the position than someone I trust absolutely. And even if it doesn't work out, at least we would still be close," Melara explained.

"I suppose that's true," Ollie replied. "And as for Wyn….I don't know. He hasn't really said anything. As we neared Riverrun, he became quieter and quieter."

"He's brooding again," Melara muttered. "Between him and Robb I don't know who does it more."

"Just seems as if you'll have your work cut out for when you get married," Ollie teased and Melara bumped his shoulder. "He'll learn quickly enough that brooding is useless and the best way to get what you want or to combat it is to be productive."

The brunette remembered that Potter had spent an incessant amount of time brooding while they had been in school, especially at the Order meetings.

It hadn't been something she had ever understood until perhaps later.

"Anyway," Ollie said getting to his feet and stretching his arms above his head. "We should probably be getting back to the inn. We've been out here for long enough."

"Are you worried about bandits?" Melara asked. "No one can see us and I can take care of anyone who by some miracle might be able to."

"I know," Ollie said. "But it is getting late don't you think. Its already after midnight I'm sure and we have a long ride in the morning."

"Alright," Melara said getting to her feet with exaggerated slowness.

"Besides," Ollie said as they began to make their way back through the trees. "You'll be in the wheelhouse tomorrow with Ros so you can sleep. I can't exactly fall asleep on a horse."

"Well you could," Melara suggested. "It just wouldn't end well."

Ollie's laughter bounced off the trees as they continued to walk away from the river. Just before they lost sight of it though, Melara turned back and caught one more glimpse of the dark ribbon cutting through the Riverlands like a knife.

 _I hope that sight is something I'll never have to say goodbye to._

Ω

 _Five days later…._

 _Gods, when did writing a letter become so difficult?_ Robb Stark thought in frustration.

He twirled the quill back and forth between his fingers for the umpteenth time and then sighed before setting it down.

It wouldn't make much sense to write to Melara now anyway, she was probably on the road and a raven was unlikely to reach her. Although he was glad that he had given the letter to Olyvar to give to her. It was a risky venture but he knew he could trust him.

And speaking of trust, a signal had come in not long before that Lannister banners had been spotted on the horizon.

He sighed and got to his feet. At least he wasn't the only one who wanted these negotiations over and done with as fast as possible. If he ever saw Lannister's wretched face again in this lifetime it would be too soon.

"Your grace," came the sound of a servant from just outside the door. "The Lannister army approaches, the gates are being opened."

"Very good," Robb called and yanked the thick fur from the back of the chair before swinging it around his shoulders. Finally he reached for the crown that the river lords had forged for him.

He disliked wearing a crown as it wasn't practical, but for matters of a diplomacy such as this it was a necessary evil.

He had ordered guards outside Sansa and Arya's room as he wanted no word of their being with the Stark army to reach Lannister ears but even with that he still felt nervous.

 _Melara I wish you had come earlier,_ the young wolf thought as he exited the room. _I have a feeling before this deal is done we are going to need a bit of magic._

Ω

 **Next chapter, the wedding...brace yourselves.**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

By the time that the call came down the line that the towers of Riverrun could be seen ahead, Melara had long since made herself ready. Her sister too was ready although she was fairly bouncing on her seat, leaning as far as she could out the window without making it look as if she were being wild or unladylike.

Melara reached out a hand and roughly pulled her back into her seat. "Would you calm down? You'll see everything in a moment."

"Sorry," Roslin said sheepishly. "It's just that I've never been away from home before and I've heard stories about Riverrun all the time. Its thought to be the most beautiful castle in the Riverlands. Perhaps even in all of Westeros!"

Melara chuckled. "I don't know about that. King's Landing and the Red Keep are certainly impressive."

Roslin wrinkled her nose. "Wyn told me it stinks there. He said it smells of pigs dung and sewage because everyone dumps their waste out of the windows."

Melara's eyes rolled back as she remembered her brief time in the capital what seemed like a lifetime ago. She had been repulsed by the smell and the heat had only exacerbated it along with so many people living in cramped and unsanitary quarters.

The city itself had only declined under Baratheon's rule and she had a feeling that the war they were fighting had neglected public waste concerns. She also wondered how many people had died during Stannis Baratheon's assault on the city.

 _I would imagine that none of those people were given burials only adding to the smell._

"Mel? Are you alright? You looked positively green for a moment," Roslin observed and the brunette blinked, coming out of her thoughts. "Fine Ros. I was just thinking."

"Well don't waste anymore time thinking about the past," Roslin suggested with a smug smile as she glanced down at her sewing in her lap. "Instead you could think about your future husband. I've heard he's very handsome."

Melara wanted to roll her eyes. She wished she could tell her sister all about her magic but had decided she would wait until after the wedding when they were all headed back north. She knew Rob wouldn't object to Roslin knowing or coming with them as she knew family was just as important to him as it was to her.

She glanced down at the letter in her lap which she had read several times since Ollie had delivered it to her. The brunette had been tempted to write back after reading it the first time but then realized that she would see him in a few days and they could discuss it in person rather than relying on birds that could easily be captured to carry their words for them.

Narrowing her eyes, she skimmed over the now familiar words.

 _Dear Melara_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. We have made good time to Riverrun and I can already see that the members of my house are relieved to be rid of the dust of travel and horseback riding. In time we will be back on the road to Winterfell and I can put this entire accursed year behind me.  
_

 _As I write this the Lannisters have come and gone. Tywin Lannister was most eager to collect his son, sign an agreement of peace terms and depart for the capital without a moment's delay. He remained only one night in my mother's ancestral home and it was the tensest I believe I have been since being crowned king. Yet now I can look at the newly signed agreement and breathe a sigh of relief knowing that for now the land will see peace.  
_

 _There are still more battles to fight, particularly ousting Stannis Baratheon from the north but there will be time to plan our attack on that later. My half brother writes to say that before Stannis departed he didn't seem to be acting particularly unhinged however Jon writes that he was in the company of a Red Priestess from Asshai._

Melara paused here and tried to recall her own limited knowledge of the religion of R'hllor from Asshai. There hadn't been many books about Essos back at the Twins but the things she had read had spoken of a religion that was bound to fire. All sacrifices were made in flames and all power and magic and sorcery was given from a blaze. A particular tidbit of information she had gleaned was a vague rumor that Red Priests and Priestesses weren't magical at all and had in the past burned whatever magical beings they had found alive in order to absorb their power.

Upon learning this the brunette had been horrified and it brought back memories of everything she had ever been told about Muggles as a child, how they were filthy animals, barbarians who would do whatever they could to either steal magic or destroy it forever.

Of course this new world was far less civilized than magical Britain where Muggles didn't even know witches and wizards existed as per the Statute of Secrecy but here such Muggles lived among other Muggles.

 _Maybe that's why there haven't been others with magic around,_ Melara thought to herself. _Is it possible that these priests have killed them all? Why didn't they try to escape? Was their magic that different that they couldn't? And what sort of magic did they have that the priests needed?_

She shuddered to herself and decided not to think about it any more. For the moment she made no immediate plans to travel to Asshai and see this strange and appalling religion.

But if Stannis Baratheon was in the company of one well….that made things even more complicated.

It was the next part of Robb's letter that had given her pause the first time she had read it.

 _Even more disturbing than Baratheon consorting with a Red Witch is the rumors that she had a hand in the death of Renly Baratheon. I don't know if the rumors hold water but given the ambition of Stannis, I don't doubt that there is some truth. Jon writes that he was told by one of Stannis' men that Ser Davos Seaworth, a captain who rides with Stannis had been ordered by him to take the Red Priestess ashore the night that Renly Baratheon died. And from there, Davos refuses to speak about what happened. I can only conclude that it was something unnatural at best and ghastly at worst.  
_

 _Would you happen to know if there are any difference between the powers of a Red Priest or Priestess and yours? I know for a fact that your magic is not tied to fire but everything else is mere guesswork. The red witch may be a problem that only you and you alone have the power to combat. I like it not but until we know more, I think we need to be prepared for any course of action.  
_

 _I have spent the last few days sending letters and pouring through the books in Riverrun's library with the help of Maester Vyman and yet our search has yielded little. Perhaps you will be able to provide some greater insights when you arrive. In the meantime, the treaty has been achieved, the realm has peace for the time being and all that is left to focus on is a wedding.  
_

 _I can honestly say with great certainty that after the events of the last few months, our wedding is something I am greatly looking forward to.  
_

 _Both my mother and sister are in a festive mood and are looking forward to your return. My mother's time has still not arrived yet which is concerning but whenever my sister frets about her, she merely states that children come when they wish to and not before. However, if you wouldn't mind taking a look at her when you have the time I would very much appreciate it.  
_

 _As to the matter of our families, I feel more comfortable writing these next words as I am entrusting this letter to your brother's hands and no one else.  
_

 _It gives me great joy to tell you that my sister Arya has been returned to us. She was delivered several days before the arrival of the Lannisters by one Ser Sandor Clegane who had abandoned King's Landing during Stannis Baratheon's attack. He apparently chanced upon Arya in the wilderness and the two have been traveling together ever since.  
_

 _Upon learning that my army had arrived in Riverrun, he made his way here to turn Arya over to us. No doubt he was rewarded handsomely and I have offered him a place with us. He has not yet agreed but he has not left either which lends me some hope that he may yet be persuaded.  
_

 _As despicable as his past has been he has his uses and he was tasked with guarding the boy king. There may be some greater insights that he will be able to provide regarding the workings of the court.  
_

 _Now that my family has been returned to me, perhaps the world can slowly begin to go back to normal. That may sound naïve but I don't feel it is wrong to hope. I know your view will most likely be a more practical one but I am eager to see some of my optimism rub off on you.  
_

 _I look forward to seeing you again.  
_

 _Robb Stark  
_

 _King in the North and the Trident_

As closely guarded as he seemed at times, Robb had made himself very free in that letter and the information he had shared was of quite a sensitive nature.

She was glad that he had entrusted his words to her brother and not a raven which was easily traceable but she wished he would be a little more reticent in the future.

In the meantime, she had charmed the letter to appear as nothing more than a blank page so that none who opened it would see the words but her.

The news about his sister was telling however. She must have been resourceful enough indeed to spend months on her own in the wilderness. There would be more to her story however, Melara was certain. Robb would no doubt share when they were alone.

Her thoughts strayed to Lady Stark who must have been overjoyed to have all of her family back with her.

Despite the death of her husband, their family had been extraordinarily lucky to survive this war relatively unscathed. Sansa and Arya would no doubt never be the same after their experiences but neither would Robb after being forced to wear a crown and fight battles.

 _The death of Eddard Stark has affected us all for better or for worse,_ Melara thought grimly. _And now his sixth and final child will never meet him because his father couldn't keep his mouth shut._

She knew her thoughts were ungenerous, but if Stark was convinced there was treason afoot, he could have handled the revelation of it in a far better way. War might have been avoided and the Lannisters dethroned at the same time.

No matter, it was over now.

All of a sudden she glanced up at the open window in time to see Ollie reign his horse in so he might walk alongside the wheelhouse.

"We are about to cross the bridge sister. Look out the window and see for yourself."

Humoring him, the brunette leaned forward so she might get a better look at Catelyn Stark's ancestral home.

Her father had always talked about Riverrun in stingy terms and she knew he had always wished for an opportunity to be lord of the Trident but it was nothing more than the ravings of an old man who imagined slights everywhere.

Riverrun was situated in the western half of the river lands at the confluence of the Tumblestone and the Red Fork rivers. It was located north of Pinkmaiden and northwest of Acorn Hall. The castle itself sat along the river road which linked Lannisport and the other crossroads.

It was a strong three sided castle which was not especially large but size was not important in this case.

It was bordered on the north by the Tumblestone and on the south by the Red Fork wile on the west side it faced a massive manmade ditch.

In times of danger, the sluice gate could be opened to fill a wide moat and leave the castle surrounded on all three sides by water which turned it into an island and made it practically unassailable.

Riverrun had sandstone walls which rose sheer from the water. It's battlements were crenelated and had arrow loops. Its towers commanded the opposite shores.

The Wheel Tower had a great waterwheel turned by the Tumblestone which led to the Water Gate, a wide and narrow arch and a heavy iron portcullis which was red with rust in its lower half.

One needed a boat to go through it and most of the boasts were tied up within the Water Gate and secured by iron rings to the walls.

There was a staircase there named the Water Stair and which led from the lower bailey up to the castle.

The keep itself was triangular she had read. There was a large triangular stone balcony that jutted out eastwards towards the Vale that was attached to her father's solar. The great hall of Riverrun was where large councils were held and where the seat of the Tullys was located.

 _Well for the foreseeable future it will be the seat of the King in the North,_ she thought to herself with a wry smile.

There was a bit of shouting up ahead as their presence was announced and Ollie leaned in through the window, whispering so only Melara could hear. "Shut the curtains, we need to keep up appearances."

She of course knew what he was talking about. Other than her brothers and three of the Starks, no one knew that Robb and Melara had met before. Risking that information was to risk the knowledge of her magic being revealed.

There was a loud rumble as the wheelhouse rolled onto the stone bridge and the clopping of the horses' hooves became even more pronounced. There was distant shouting and a mechanical whirring sound, no doubt the gates being opened to allow them entrance and Melara glanced down at the letter she was holding before slipping it into her pocket.

She'd examine it again later and then she would burn it so there was no chance of it ever being read again, by her eyes or anyone else's.

Roslin was tapping her feet against the wooden seat of the wheelhouse in a steady succession a sure sign that she was battling between nerves and excitement.

"When is the wedding?" she asked for what Melara was sure was the umpteenth time.

"Tomorrow," the brunette replied tersely. "Apparently its to be held in the godswood of Riverrun."

"You're being married in the northern tradition?" Roslin asked with surprise.

"Why not? My husband is from the north. They follow a different religion there. "

"What if father doesn't like it?"

"I don't give a rat's arse what father does or doesn't like. He's not getting married, I am. And I have no problem with being married in the northern tradition."

The hum of a large crowd shut the two girls up and Melara wondered just how many people were milling around. It shouldn't be too large as the Lannister army had come and gone, but there were still the Stark and Tully armies encased within the walls. She had seen banners bearing the grey wolf and the silver trout about a half an hour of coming to the stronghold of the Riverlands.

Finally, the wheelhouse came to a halt and Melara folded the letter back up and slipped it into a fold of her dress, adding a sticking charm silently for good measure.

She glanced at Roslin who was fairly bouncing in her seat with excitement and smiled before straightening her skirts.

She remembered something her first father had told her when she was still Pansy. _First impressions are the most important impact you can make on someone. Because despite increased familiarity those impressions will linger on despite the best of actions and intentions. A bad first impression will always be remembered._

And she was about to step out of this wheelhouse into Riverrun as its future queen. There could be no greater first impression to make.

Thankfully as a former Slytherin, Melara had a lifetime worth of practice.

She placed a finger between the inner curtains of the wheelhouse and parted it slightly, providing a slit so she might peer through briefly.

What she saw told her all that she needed to know.

The party from the Twins were milling about and unloading the carts that had been brought with them but up on the great steps leading to the inner sanctum of Riverrun stood the party of the Starks.

They were flanked by their guards and there were different banners lined up on either side of them.

Melara's eyes went straight to a small girl who looked nothing like the three others. She was perhaps ten or eleven years old and had short uneven dark hair almost as if it had been sheared off. She had piercing grey eyes and despite her small frame, she stood as if she had seen things no one should. Lady

Catelyn's hands were placed protectively on her shoulders and Melara felt a corner of her mouth tilt upward at the sight of what was no doubt Arya Stark.

 _I'll be interested in hearing more of her story after the wedding,_ she thought to herself.

Standing next to Arya was Sansa Stark who looked remarkably revitalized. The dark circles under her eyes were gone along with the pinched look she had born so much in the last few weeks Melara had seen her.

She looked far more comfortable and relaxed now that she was in a secure keep with guards around her.

Lady Catelyn on the other hand, looked as if she was going to burst any day now. Her enlarged stomach pushed quite noticeably against her dress and Melara made a mental note to see if she could make her future good mother more of the moonstone potion she had given her.

And standing in the center of the group of women was Robb Stark looked no different than the last time she had seen him. There was something different about his face however and she frowned as she tried to piece it together. And then she realized what she was seeing was relief. For a moment the revelation surprised her and then she remembered that the Lannisters had come and gone, he would be returning home to deal with the potential threat posed by

Stannis Baratheon and then take up residence in Winterfell as the King in the North.

The war he had fought in his father's name was over and he had been successful, both in getting his family back and separating the north from the rest of Westeros.

Who wouldn't be satisfied with the end result of that?

His eyes were fixed on the wheelhouse and it struck Melara then that he might be as eager to see her as she was to see him.

The thought made her smile.

There was a sudden tap on the wooden door of the wheelhouse and Melara knew it was Ollie telling her it was time to exit.

She gave a short exhale before opening the door and reaching out to take his hand as she stepped onto the small steps that had been provided.

A silence had fallen over the courtyard except for those of her own party who continued to mill about unloading things and speaking in hushed tones.

The brunette's eyes found Robb's immediately. She wanted to smile at how his gaze sharpened but she controlled herself. They weren't supposed to know each other after all.

Stepping down from the stairs, Melara took Ollie's proffered arm and smiled up at him when he winked at her.

"Are you ready Mel?" he asked as the two began to walk towards the steps to formerly greet the Starks for the "first" time.

The brunette smirked back at him before uttering the words that would prepare her for the rest of her life as a Stark. "I was born ready Ollie."

Ω

Several hours later after a quiet dinner had concluded in the great hall of Riverrun with members of the Stark and Tully army celebrating the end of the war and the liberation of the north and the Trident along with the Freys simply making good use of the free wine and ale, Melara and Robb found themselves strolling through the godswood of Riverrun arm in arm.

Most of the castle was in bed and Melara had happily charmed herself and Robb to vanish from the public eye with her magic allowing them some much needed private time with the exception of Grey Wind who went everywhere that Robb did.

This quiet time was something the brunette found herself enjoying, perhaps because as soon as they wed there would be so little of it.

It still amazed her sometimes how she had gone from loving attention as a young Pansy Parkinson to hating it. Perhaps that was because she had finally understood that Slytherins weren't attention seekers and to truly embody the house of Serpents, she couldn't either.

"You're awfully quiet," Robb commented as they walked slowly along. "What's on your mind?"

"Many things," Melara mused. "You still haven't told me how the meeting with the Lannisters faired. I can only assume it went as well as it possibly could given that half of Westeros is free and the Kingslayer is no longer here."

"Tywin Lannister is a brilliant man, I will give him that," Robb admitted running a hand through his hair. "But when I saw him I could see that the war has taken its toll on him too. Having his ancestral seat attacked his lessened his reputation in the eyes of much of the realm. He will no doubt carry the sting of it until his death."

Melara narrowed her eyes up at him. "You almost sound sorry for him."

Robb shook his head. "Not sorry, just musing. There's always the possibility that the same thing could happen to me. Stannis Baratheon is marching south and with each passing day gets closer and closer to Winterfell. It's walls are strong, but there is very little in the way of defence there with my army in the Riverlands. If something were to happen – "

Melara stopped him before he could worry himself anymore. "You've had a little bit too long to brood about this I see. If this is truly something that worries you, perhaps I can drop in on Winterfell and ensure its defences are secure."

Robb's eyes narrowed at her. "You can do that?"

Melara smirked at him. "In addition to disguising myself, there is another tool that I possess which makes things extremely convenient for me. As long as I know the look of the place that I wish to go to, I travel anywhere I want in this country."

Robb's eyes widened considerably. "How?"

"It's called apparition," the brunette explained. "By thinking about the place I wish to go and putting myself into a forward motion to get there, I can open my eyes and appear in the place of my thoughts."

"How does it work?" Robb asked looking supremely intrigued.

"Like this."

With that, Melara closed her eyes and envisioned the spot by a tree about ten feet in front of them in the godswood. She tucked her arms across her chest and spun on her heel with her destination clearly in mind.

Her last sound was a crack and a rush of cool air before the spinning stopped and she opened her eyes to find she was standing before the very tree she had envisioned.

Turning, the brunette found Robb's eyes twice as wide as they were normally. "I don't believe it. You disappeared into thin air with a flash of light in this spot and then reappeared there a moment later."

Melara smirked. "It's one of the more useful pieces of magic I possess, along with the potions that is."

She turned back to the tree and ran a hand absently along its trunk before looking up at the dark star filled sky above their heads. There was the sound of rushing water near by adding to the feeling of tranquility. She almost wished it would last. "If you manage to find an image of Winterfell in one of the books here in Riverrun so I know what it looks like, I could travel there within the hour and assess its defenses, perhaps even check on your brothers."

She waited for an answer and then frowned upon not receiving one. Turning around she was surprised to find Robb standing several feet away with his fists clenched and staring at her so hard it was as if he were trying to light her on fire.

"Robb?" she asked with a frown. "Is something wrong?"

"It all makes sense now," he said in a low voice and Grey Wind whined nudging his master's hand as if trying to provide comfort.

Melara frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"It was you wasn't it?" he asked. "Ever since Sansa arrived in my camp, I have been trying to discover how it was that she got there. She never told me how she escaped the capital or who it was who helped her do it. My sister has never been good at keeping secrets, at least from me and so whoever's secret she was hiding must have been substantial if she was that loyal. It was you. You were the one who went to the capital to help her escape. You brought her back….you told her not to say anything."

And so another secret was out.

She had a feeling it would be released sooner or later but right before their wedding and with conflict still so fresh in the land, she had hoped for another opportune time to reveal it.

 _Ah well, no time like the present I suppose._

"Yes," she said calmly maintaining eye contact the whole while. "Yes, it was me."

Robb just stared at her. In the dim light of the godswood with the stars and moon above, she thought she saw him clench and unclench his jaw several times.

She was also certain that his hands were clenching and unclenching.

After a moment he rolled his lips back into his mouth and looked away from her as if he were trying to master some undefinable emotion.

It didn't appear to work because less then a minute later, he dropped his hands and strode toward her.

Melara blinked in surprise and was about to open her mouth but in the next instant his lips were on hers so fast that whatever words she had thought to say died.

His kiss was hard and desperate as if he were trying to lay claim to some foundation that she hadn't known she had been offering.

But while his kiss was rough and unyielding, the hands that came up to rest against the sides of her neck and the fingers against her face were so utterly gentle it felt as if feathers were brushing her skin.

Without even realizing it, she had brought her own hands up to rest at his waist allowing the embrace to be returned.

Gradually his kisses became less and less intense until they were as light as the brushes of a feather against her mouth and Melara found herself leaning into him, wanting more.

Finally Robb pulled back. He didn't go far however and instead rested his forehead against hers while closing his eyes.

It was easy enough to tell that he was feeling both vulnerable and emotional and Melara was both concerned and touched that he felt he could be this open with her this quickly.

Being this close to him, she could feel the steady pounding of his heart through his tunic as well as his heavy breathing. Her own breaths weren't as steady as she'd like them to be either though.

"Do you realize what you've done?" he asked in a rough whisper, not moving away from her an inch.

"I do," she said somewhat wryly. "Sped up this war, brought your sister home, relieved the Lannisters of their last hostage and ensured that you were even more of a threat to your enemies."

"That's the long and short of it I suppose," Robb said finally pulling back slightly so he could look down at her face. "Forgive me but…..I find I'm somewhat speechless. Why did you do it?"

"What sort of a question is that?" Melara asked with a frown. "I did it for all the reasons that you just listed. You weren't the only reason I went after Sansa. My brothers have fought in this war and I had determined I wouldn't go home without them. There was something in it for me too."

Robb laughed almost breathlessly then and kissed her on the forehead. "Well then I'm glad you're self serving…I hope you continue to do it."

"Oh don't worry," Melara said standing slightly taller on her toes so she might press the softest of kisses to his lips. She had always been taught to leave people wanting just a little bit more. "I'm not done being selfish yet. You look at everything I do for everyone…there's always something in it for me."

"And yet the things you do always have something in it for me as well don't they?" Robb said and his blue eyes appeared even darker, his tone more rough and heated.

Something hot slithered about in the pit of Melara's stomach and with a slight effort she swallowed.

"Well we are going to be married soon," she said with the drawling whimsical tone she had become famous for in her last years at Hogwarts. "I accepted that months ago before I ever met you. That's why I've stopped doing things for me and simply began doing them…for we."

"I don't think I've ever met a woman who's so….strong willed," Robb said. "Even in the north the women aren't quite as….cunning or….coldblooded as you."

"Why my dear husband to be," she murmured pressing her hands to the side of his face. "I believe that's the best compliment you could have ever given me."

Ω

They had to be quiet.

Their success was contingent upon how quiet they were crawling through that tunnel.

Martyn certainly wasn't enjoying swimming through dirt, twigs and gods knew what else was living in this bowel of the earth.  
To top it all off, he couldn't see a bloody thing. The person who was crawling in front of him didn't have the torch and it was only a faint glimmer in front of him.

"Why did you volunteer us for this Arden?" he demanded of the person in front of him and was responded to with a laugh.

"Because Lord Lannister needs someone to do the dirty work, Martyn. There couldn't be too many people disguised as servants, that would draw attention. We're not supposed to be seen remember. That's the whole point of this."

"Well at the very least could you tell me if we're close? I feel like we've been in this tunnel for hours!"

"Quiet both of you!" barked a rough voice behind him. "I knew I shouldn't have taken green boys with me. You're too lily livered to do anything right. We're nearing the dungeons. And if you give us away with your jawing and this whole scheme is blown, I swear before the guards get you I will slit you from navel to nose."

Martyn fought back a shudder and sent silent curses at Arden's back for getting them into this mess. It would figure that Lord Lannister would choose the smallest of them to go into the tunnels and congregate in the dungeons of Riverrun. Ever since Jaime Lannister, he said no one had been in there but they still needed to be quiet.

"Look alive all of you," a voice ahead of them said in a loud whisper. "We've reached the dungeons. Lord Lannister said that there should be a door just ahead of us where we can hide until its time."

"Will we all fit in there?" another voice asked.

"We'll have to," the rough voice behind him said. "There should be some Tully livery in their we can exchange for what we're wearing. Some of us will leave the room and go about the castle pretending to be footmen. The rest will wait there until the signal is given.

"What's the signal again?" another person asked.

"When the music plays…you'll know what to do. He said it would be a nice wedding present to the King in the North."

Ω

Arya was different.

That was the best way that Melara could think to describe her. She didn't look like Robb at all and her short brown bobbed hair didn't resemble Sansa's either.

She had cold grey eyes, Stark eyes and for a ten year old they were the eyes of someone who had seen far too much.

She had looked Melara over as if she were some wild animal she had never come into contact with before and was trying to understand it. But there had been a spark of memory there, some flash of recognition that told the brunette she too remembered their brief meeting on that balcony in King's Landing so long ago.

But then it was gone.

Melara couldn't really blame her for that though. She had no idea what Arya had done to survive in the last few months since she had escaped from King's Landing and wasn't certain that she wanted to know.

What she did know was that Arya had hugged her mother and sister and brother but she hadn't cried while doing it. She had hung around them for the first few days since she had arrived, not wanting to be out of their sight but at the same time, she didn't say much and just watched them all with wide eyes, like she was afraid if she blinked she would never see them again.

At least that was what Robb had told her.

She had also seen the rather large companion that had been responsible for bringing his sister to Riverrun. He was an intimidating man with his half burned face. She had seen him from afar at the capital what felt like a lifetime ago. He had been responsible for guarding King Joffrey but she supposed the job had lost its glamour at some point.

The question was, how had he run into Arya and what had the two been doing?

On the morning of the wedding, Melara received some of those answers.

To her annoyance she had been feeling a little restless and had risen early to work off some of her pent up energy.

Slipping out of her small guest room in Riverrun, she decided to go for a walk and see the godswood in the light of day as she hadn't seen too many details of in the dark the night before.

To her surprise as she wandered amongst the trees, Melara heard the sound of voices and she frowned, pausing behind one of the trees before peeking out from behind it.

Her shock grew when she was confronted with the sight of ten year old Arya sitting in front of the heart tree on her knees. It almost looked like she was praying.

All of a sudden, something large and shaggy brushed Melara's hand and she very nearly jumped in surprise.

When she looked down, it was to her pleasant amusement to see Grey Wind standing there watching her. His large amber eyes were looking calmly into her face, his wet nose pushing at her hand as if urging her to go forward.

"What are you doing out here?" she whispered as she knelt down so she could look the large direwolf in the eye. "Where's Robb?"

Grey Wind whined and then nudged at her again. It was almost like he was pushing her towards the heart tree and Arya.

"Alright, I'm going," the brunette said the and wolf huffed. "You're just like your master you know? Too persistent for your own good."

She stepped out from behind the tree and walked cautiously towards the small girl kneeling by the heart tree. "Arya?"

The small girl didn't respond and in the early morning light she didn't even move so Melara wasn't sure if she had heard her.

She walked closer. "Arya? Are you alright?"

When the girl still didn't answer her, Melara peered closer and nearly reeled back in surprise.

The girl almost appeared like she was still asleep but judging from the rumpled state of her clothes she hadn't gone to bed the night before.

But it was her eyes that startled the brunette. They were wide open and completely wide as if her pupils had rolled back in her head. Either she was sleepwalking or she was seeing something that Melara couldn't.

She suddenly remembered the conversation she had had with Robb a few weeks ago in the privacy of her tent. He had admitted to sometimes seeing strange things through the eyes of his direwolf, being connected to him in a way that he didn't really understand and couldn't explain.

Either she was having some sort of vision, or she had wandered out her in her sleep. But Melara was highly inclined it was the former.

It wasn't the greatest idea to wake a sleepwalker, you just sort of naturally had to let them come out of it.

So instead of touching the girl, Melara seated herself on the bench before the heart tree on one side of her and Grey Wind settled himself on his haunches on the either.

Looking up at the heart tree Melara suddenly remembered the vision she had had in her sleep weeks and weeks earlier. The one where she had been drowning before being pulled up by a mysterious force and landed dripping and coughing on the shore of a strange wooded island with deep dark earthy words echoing in her head.

 _Come to the Heart Tree,_ they had said. _Open your eye._

All of a sudden Arya's breathing changed and Melara could tell the girl was coming out of whatever trance had had her under spell.

Carefully, so as not to startle her, she called her name. "Arya?"

The girl jerked and then whirled around, turning her head to the left and the right as if she were a caged animal.

When she caught sight of Melara she blinked and swallowed hard for a few minutes as if she were getting control of her surroundings. Her eyes narrowed slightly as if she were trying to remember who this person was.

"What are you doing here?" she asked and Melara raised an eyebrow. She remembered that the girl was blunt, but now she seemed far more defensive of her actions.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," she said. "I couldn't sleep so I decided to go for a walk and that's when I found you."

Arya looked to her left and blinked again when she caught sight of Grey Wind. Instantly the tense expression on her face melted and she reached out to the wolf, burying her face in his soft pelt and closing her eyes.

Melara watched her for a moment and wondered whether or not she should say something. She had had all of one conversation with Robb's sister before she was ever promised to Robb and it had been brief. Arya might not even remember what had happened all those months ago.

It certainly felt like a lifetime to her.

But just then, Arya raised her face from Grey Wind's fur and fixed Melara with a strange look. "Do you still know how to use a sword?"

"Yes," Melara said wondering where she was going with this.

"Does Robb know?"

"He does."

Arya nodded as if she were processing the information. "Do you think you could teach me again? You were good when I saw you before."

Melara smirked slightly. This was easier than she thought. But then, she had met Arya before she was ever betrothed to Robb and possibly earned some of her respect so that had to count for something.

"Alright," she said. "We'll start after the wedding. But on one condition."

Arya was getting to her feet paused then and narrowed her eyes at the brunette. "What's that?"

"You tell me what you were doing out here."

Arya's face screwed up almost into a knot. Melara wasn't sure if she was angry or sad and she was just about to open her mouth to say never mind. Everyone had their secrets and secrets were things she could respect. Merlin knew she had plenty, from her magic to her identity to her dreams to the fact that no one on this new earth knew that she was reincarnated.

But that was a secret that would never be told as there was no reason for anyone to know it.

"I…I don't know," Arya said finally. "I remember I was having a dream about…Nymeria…my direwolf."

Melara went very still. Robb had told her back in the camp that back in Winterfell about a year or so earlier, they had gone to observe an execution of a member of the Night's Watch and on their way back had found a dead female direwolf with a litter of live pups. There was one for all five of the Stark's children including Jon Snow.

Sansa no longer had hers and Arya no longer had hers but Melara knew Bran did, she had seen it in her vision a few weeks earlier.

She wondered if the youngest Rickon had his as well.

"Do you miss her?" she asked and Arya bristled slightly but she nodded. "I haven't seen her in a while. Not since…since…"

Her voice trailed off and her face screwed up again as if she were trying to control herself. "Ever since Joffrey," she finally spat.

Melara nodded. "Well, if its any consolation you're not the only one who hates the royal bastard. He's made a lot of enemies in the last year from what I heard. I imagine there's many in the army who'd like to see him dead."

"Yes," Arya said quietly. "But they're not going to do it. I am."

Melara blinked, certain she had misheard the girl. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm going to do it," Arya said tightly. "He ordered my father killed and he just stood there watching as he died. His name is at the top of my list."

The hate in the girl's voice was something else and Melara wondered briefly if she had ever hated anyone that much. And then she remembered when Daphne had been killed by a Death Eater and the rage that had poured like hot poison through her blood, festering like an open wound and oozing a wealth of vengeance. Granted she had had the opportunity to take her revenge right then and there and she had, but she still remembered that feeling.

Arya had lost her father and her direwolf, she had also lost her sister for a time too. No, if this was what she wanted, Melara wouldn't stop her. Revenge was a pure motive after all and one she certainly understood.

"Your list?" she asked.

Arya nodded, she had seated herself back down on the ground and was tugging at handfuls of grass as if she needed something to do in order to keep herself occupied.

"I started it after…Father died. I got out of the city with someone called Yoren. He had come to collect boys for the Night's Watch and he cut off my hair so I would look like a boy. That night I started it."

"Is there anyone else on the list?" Melara asked curiously.

Arya was quiet for a minute and the brunette wondered if she was going to respond before she spoke in a small tight voice. "The Mountain, the queen, Ilyn Payne, Tywin Lannister."

That last name caused Melara to frown. "Tywin Lannister? When did you meet him?"

"At Harrenhal," Arya replied. "We were captured and brought there."

She didn't say anything else about it and Melara decided she wasn't going to press. She didn't know Arya well enough after all and perhaps that would change.

"So five people then," Melara said listening them silently. "That's a lot."

"I'll get it done," Arya insisted stubbornly.

"I don't doubt that," Melara said. "You seem very determined. But do you have a plan for doing it?"

Judging from Arya's silence, plans weren't really something she had thought of. The list seemed to have simply been a thing created to keep her going. Being on the run after her father was unjustly executed and her sister a prisoner would have a person scrambling to gain a hold of any anchor.

Revenge and anchors to keep herself from despair would have been just the thing to do.

"Well that's alright," Melara said. "You'll figure it out and then you'll carry it out and it will be a burden off of you."

"You're not going to stop me?" Arya asked suspiciously. "Why?"

"You don't need to be stopped," Melara said. "I don't think you're wrong for wanting to kill the people who killed your father. If someone did anything like that to my brothers or my sister, I'd probably start my own list too."

Arya nodded and Melara got the distinct feeling that the younger girl was pleased with the acknowledgements.

"Come on," she said getting to her feet. "The sun's coming up and it's going to be a long day. I'd like to spend at least a little bit of it with the Starks rather than the Freys."

"You don't like your family?" Arya asked as the two began to walk back through the godswood towards the keep.

"It's not that I don't like them," Melara mused. "Its that they don't make it easy on themselves to like. My brothers and my sister are really the only ones I do like."

"Why is that?" Arya asked.

Melara sighed. "One day when I have the patience I'll sit down with you and explain everything. It gets so complicated sometimes that even I don't want to talk about it. Let's just say that my family is very different than your family and that's not really a good thing in my family's case. You're very lucky. Your family all loves each other but I have so many half siblings that there's so much distrust and paranoia."

"Well, at least you're marrying my brother so you can get away from it all," Arya said and Melara smirked. "That is true."

"Do you like my brother?" Arya asked curiously as they emerged from the godswood and into the rising sun.

Melara smirked. "Yes, I like him. He seems like a kind and fair person. Of all the plans my idiot father has made in my life, this is one of the few intelligent things he has done."

It wasn't until later that Melara realized that Arya hadn't really answered her question about her early morning wanderings.

But a few hours later, it wouldn't really matter.

Ω

"You look stunning," Roslin breathed.

Melara looked in the long floor length mirror standing before her and allowed herself a small smirk. She had to admit, she did look pretty good.

The dress she was wearing had a long train that fell past her feet. It was a very pale blue but covered in silver embroidery and accents. It had long sleeves, but the sleeves were sheer and covered in the same accents. The dress was backless but connecting the two shoulders was a thick piece of blue cloth embroidered with silver. It was twisted so it almost looked like a vine with branches and leaves. Connected to this part, but not the rest of the dress was the long train that was almost a triangle shape, smaller at the top and fanning out as it reached the bottom. It was a masterwork of pale blue silk and silver embroidery, rippling out in waves like water.

Her long black curls had been woven into an elaborate braid and twisted about her head so it was all up and contained with some diamond pins.

"Now all that's needed is the Frey cloak to pin over top this and I'll be all set," she muttered to herself as she looked herself over with a critical eye.

"I wish you didn't have to wear that," Roslin muttered. "It covers up the dress."

"Well I won't be wearing it for very long," Melara muttered as she narrowed her eyes at her reflection. "Soon the Stark cloak will be about my shoulders."

"Robb Stark is so handsome," Roslin said dreamily staring out the window. "You must have the luck of the gods Mel."

The brunette turned away from the window and frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're going to marry a handsome man from an excellent family who will clearly treat you right and to top it all off, you're going to be a queen.

That's a life any girl in Westeros would dream of and it just fell into your lap by accident."

Melara narrowed her eyes. Her sister sounded almost bitter. "You know I didn't ask for any of this."

"I know," Roslin said softly. "But maybe that's what makes it so perfectly ironic. You never ask for anything and you put all of us first even though you're one of the youngest. And then you're rewarded with a handsome husband who isn't going to stifle you or expect you to only give him children and nothing else as well as a crown. Everyone dreams of a life out of those songs and stories but you're quite literally getting one! I suppose I'm saying that no one deserves it more than you and I mean that in the best way."

Melara took a step towards her. "You deserve the best you can get too Ros, and I promise you'll get it. I said I'm taking you back north with me and I meant it. You believe me don't you?"

A soft look came over her younger sister's face. "Of course I do. I believe everything you tell me."

Just then there was a sharp rapping on the door and Roslin got up to answer it. "Who is it?"

From outside came their eldest brother's amused voice. "I've come to collect the bride and bring her to the godswood. There is a wedding that's supposed to take place today in case the both of you have forgotten."

Roslin giggled and opened the door to reveal Perwyn Frey dressed to the nines in a white billowing tunic with an ornate doublet and a silver pin attached to it.

He wasn't wearing a cloak but Melara hadn't expected him to and his hair was neatly combed. There was a sword by his side however but it was for ceremonial purposes.

What did surprise Melara however was the fact that it was a sword she didn't recognize and she wondered where he had gotten it.

In the meantime, Wyn had grown silent as he looked her over and finally sighed. "Gods Mel, it's a good thing you're getting married today, if you weren't I would be worried about having to use this when we stepped outside."

As he was speaking he touched the hilt of the sword at his waist and his sister smirked at him. "I'm quite capable of defending my own honor if you recall."

Wyn chuckled. "Yes, yes I do. Are you ready then?"

In answer, Melara stepped down from the small pedestal and the servant who had been arranging the train made a sound of protest. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"I had better go too," Roslin said getting to her feet and putting her sewing aside. "Ollie, Will and Ben will be wondering where I am. I think I'm supposed to be in the godswood already."

After she had left, Melara took one last look in the mirror.

"You're not nervous are you?" Wyn asked, looking at her with a searching eye.

"When have you known me to get nervous about anything?" Melara asked. "It's not as if I don't know Robb."

"That's true," Wyn said. "You often have a way of bending the rules to get what you want."

"I do," Melara agreed as she fussed with some of the pins in her hair. "But this time, I simply adapted. I didn't pick Robb but I decided I wasn't going to marry someone I didn't know. So I took the necessary steps to get to know him."

"That you did," Wyn drawled, "and almost gave me a heart attack in the process knowing my younger sister was in a war camp."

Melara smirked at his reflection. "Well then you must be glad to know that the war is over and we won't be doing any more fighting."

Wyn didn't return the smile. "We might have peace for a few years but I doubt the Lannisters will ever forget how they were humiliated twice in the war, once by us and then by the Ironborn."

"How were the Lannisters when they were here?" Melara asked seriously.

"Grim," Wyn replied. "Tywin Lannister is an old man but he is terse and I don't doubt his mind for strategy for a moment. He was in conference with Robb Stark for over an hour and no one else was allowed in the room. After Lannister exited the room he was taken down to the dungeons where his son was released to him and then the two got on their horses and left without a word."

Melara narrowed her eyes at her mirror. That was sort of the reaction that she would have expected. Tywin Lannister wasn't an emotional man and his humiliation would have made him angry and sullen. But at least he had gotten what he wanted, the Ironborn were repelled from Casterly Rock and his son had been returned to him. He had had to exchange half the kingdom for it but in many ways the war had ended relatively painlessly.

But Melara would be lying if she said that didn't make her somewhat uneasy.

"We're going to have to watch our backs in the next few years," she said as she turned to her brother who nodded. "Tywin Lannister is a brilliant man but he's not immortal. He won't live forever and when he dies this will truly be over."

Wyn frowned at her. "What are you saying sister?"

"I'm saying someone needs to pull the teeth from the lion," Melara muttered darkly. "And perhaps sometime after the wedding….I will do just that."

Wyn's face turned thunderous. "You would go so far as to – "

"You have no idea what I'm capable of Wyn," Melara said with deadly promise. "Within an hour I will be a Stark which means the circle of people requiring protection will have grown. You and I both know that Lannister will not let the outcome of the war stand. Better to take him out before he tries to do the same thing to Robb. Once he's gone, the Lannisters will be tamed. Do you think the queen regent or her brother are the same sort of threat that their father is?

They're easily disposable as well, as is the monster they've created. Perhaps it's time Westeros saw an end to the Lannisters."

"You're somewhat frightening when you're like this. You know that don't you?" Wyn muttered. "We're casually talking about ending the reign of a great house…and the alarming thing is….you could do it if you wanted to."

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about a Westeros free of lions would look like?" Melara demanded. "That house was almost singlehandedly responsible for the extinction of the Targaryens. They took down the Reynes as well. Wouldn't it be deliciously ironic for the family that has been feared for decades to be taken down and extinguished by an unknown force?"

"Westeros is due for a power change," Wyn grudgingly admitted. "But if people were to ever learn that it was you – "

"They won't," Melara said calmly. "But the elimination of the Lannisters would leave a power vacuum for anyone to step in and take over. Who do you think is the most qualified to do that?"

Wyn wasn't long in understanding. "You would want to place your husband on the throne?"

"I would," Melara said unapologetically. "Westeros needs a king…not a royal bastard or an old man or a greedy but incompetent lord like Mace Tyrell. It needs an honorable man who is willing to do what is right but who is shrewd. Robb would lead Westeros into a golden age. And I'll help him do it."

Wyn shook his head. "I take it back. You're not somewhat frightening, you _are_ frightening sweet sister. I certainly hope Robb Stark knows what he's getting himself into."

Melara laughed darkly. "He'll know the full extent soon enough. Now come on, we have a wedding to get to."

Ω

"Halt! Who comes? Who comes before the gods?"

Melara smirked slightly at the sound of Robb's voice rang out among the godswood and even though she hadn't even come into the clearing yet, she could recognize his voice right away.

She nudged Perwyn so he could deliver the words he had to say in response.

"Lord Perwyn Frey to deliver the Lady Melara to be married!" her brother called back in a loud clear voice.

Wedding ceremonies in the north were much different than those of the south and rituals needed to be said before the bride and groom even saw each other.

Coupled with the fact that there was no altar and no septon to marry them as they said their vows before the old gods of the north, the person bringing the bride to the place of marriage needed to say who she was and her birth and age before they could be brought forth to be wed.

"Melara, of House Frey comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, true born and noble. She comes to claim the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

At this point, they had stepped out into the clearing through the trees so that all of those gathered might see her, and Melara felt the weight of a great many eyes on her, watching, speculating.

There were people there that she didn't recognize who had arrived in the last few days to observe the wedding and she could see all of the Starks standing beneath the heart tree with Ben, Will Ollie and Roslin. standing on the opposite side waiting for her. Her father was standing off to the side with the rest of the

Freys looking quite beside himself with glee.

Her eyes caught side of the wood and the breath was stolen from her lungs momentarily.

There were little patches of grey light coming through the trees and making a chequered pattern on the smooth stones on the ground at her feet. The air was so clear she could practically see the dust particles in it and barely restrained herself from lifting up a hand to grasp one of them.

But to her, the only person that held was Robb. Her green eyes found his blue ones right away and from there, never left.

His gaze upon her was so intense that she thought she might melt from the heat of it and there would be nothing more embarrassing then, but she also wanted to preen from the admiration she saw there.

Robb in the meantime could not take his eyes from his intended. He had always known she was stunningly beautiful but whatever the maids had done to prepare her for this day went beyond his ability to comprehend.

She almost appeared ethereal as she stood at the edge of the clearing on the arm of her brother and her green eyes were looking at no other but him.

There were diamond pins in her long black hair and in the pale light of the day, they seemed to catch the light and made her whole head and face shine like silver.

Her dress was stunning as well and he could see the intricate stitching of the silver thread to form the flowers on it along with the tiny seed pearls that formed the heart of the vine like designs.

There was the maiden's cloak of The Twins clasped at her throat and her dress was such that it went right to the edges of her shoulders, exposing her skin to the light, a sight which made Robb heat slightly and smile even more.

"Robb Stark," he called back, but his eyes were trained on his bride and not on her brother to whom the words would have been spoken. "King in the North and of the Trident. I claim her. Who gives her?"

"Perwyn of House Frey," her brother replied meeting Robb's eyes for a moment before turning to his sister. "Melara will you take this man?"

Melara fixed Robb with a wicked smile before she replied in a strong clear voice like the one he had called out with. "I take this man."

Robb smiled back at her and she slowly let go of Wyn's arm and walked the rest of the way across the clearing towards him. Her golden eyes seemed focused on no other face and he found he couldn't look away from her even if he had wanted to.

He held out his hand towards her and she reached for it, their fingers entwining as if it were the most natural gesture in the world.

Robb smiled at her which she returned with another dazzling one and with that the two of them turned to face the heart tree.

Together the knelt, Melara's long grey and blue cloak stretched out behind her and bowed their heads in prayer and submission to the gods of the north.

Melara didn't actually pray and instead merely closed her eyes. Her thoughts were of satisfaction that this day had come and was going to be a queen. It was more power than she would have ever received in her first life and as a natural born Slytherin, power was something that any true daughter of the Sacred Twenty Eight would want.

 _This is it,_ she thought to herself. _In another few minutes we will be introduced as the King and Queen in the North. Eleven year old Pansy would be squealing right now. Merlin, I wonder what Malfoy would say?_

Robb squeezed her hand lightly, signalling the end of his prayers and the two rose to their feet once more.

When Robb looked behind them once more, he could see Theon approaching with the Stark cloak draped over his arm.

Robb turned to Melara and gently reached for her throat to unclasp the maiden's cloak of the Freys. He was glad it was only one silver pin that held it in place else they might have been here for a good long while.

Once the maiden's cloak was free, he passed it to Theon before taking the Stark cloak and draped it about Melara's shoulders, knowing this was the act that would seal them as husband and wife forever.

The moment the cloak of the Starks was about her shoulders, Robb knew the time had come to seal this last moment with a kiss.

He had kissed Melara before, but this was a far more formal setting than a tiny tent over a brewing pot of moonstone potion.

The easy look on her face made him realize however that none of this turned her head whatsoever. She didn't appear nervous or overly excited but merely possessed of an easy relaxed confidence that said she knew she was going to be a queen and the prospect didn't make her lose her mind like any other girl would.

In that moment, Robb knew she was the right choice to be both his wife and his queen and he relaxed immediately.

She raised an eyebrow at him as if to say _are you going to kiss me or not?_ He smirked back at her before placing a hand on the side of her neck and lowering his face to hers.

It was a chaste kiss compared to the ones they had shared before, but one that they both felt affected by. He felt Melara reach a hand out and rest it at his waist as the kiss lingered on for a few more seconds. Her lips were soft and warm and immediately melded perfectly with his own.

The air was suddenly filled with the sound of clapping and cheers and Melara smirked as she pulled back from her husband and looked out over the gathered crowd.

Robb's family were all clapping, even Arya who looked a bit put out at having to wear a dress. Both Sansa and Lady Catelyn had wide smiles on their faces and Theon Greyjoy was smirking.

Melara glanced at her own family and saw a rainbow's worth of expressions on their faces. Wyn, Ben and Will were grinning. Ollie put two fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly, prompting Ben to reach over and slap him upside the head. Roslin just had her hands clasped under her chin and a dreamy expression on her face,

The rest of the family bore confusing expressions. Tyta and her half sisters simply looked envious but were trying to smile at the combination of the two was somewhat ghastly. Some of the others simply looked bored.

 _Their good opinion doesn't matter much to me,_ Melara thought to herself. _I won't be seeing any of them after this is over._

Helenna met Robb's eyes then and saw his blue eyes shining down at her with a small smile on his handsome face. She had never seen his eyes shine like that in the few weeks since they had met and was glad she was the cause of it now.

 _I hope I can be a reason to make his eyes shine like that for many years to come. And maybe I can. With the war over we should all have reason to smile. Soon enough there will be even more._

Ω

Melara had expected the wedding feast to be a raucous event with feasting and even more drinking where the wine and ale flowed like water however it seemed she had underestimated her family's ability to celebrate.

The great hall of Riverrun was a large structure and at the front of the room a head table had been set up for the king and new queen and their respective families. Lady Catelyn, Sansa and Arya were sitting next to Robb and Wyn, Ben, Will, Ollie and Roslin were sitting next to Melara. Candles were lit in each corner of the room and on the far left side, there was a group of musicians serenading the wedding guests with quiet strings and flutes.

The room was filled with the loud murmurs of people talking and the clinking of wine glasses and utensils against plates.

Melara had exchanged the Stark cloak and her more decorative one attached to her dress in favor of just the backless dress itself. She was glad for it as the long white cloak was heavy and would have made her hot and irritated in a room filled with hundreds of people.

There were _a lot_ of people in the room now that she was truly thinking about it and she didn't remember seeing this many before but perhaps Robb had invited the guardsmen to participate in the celebration as well.

Merlin knew there was a lot to be happy about. The war was over, there would soon before another Stark in their midst when Lady Catelyn gave birth, both Stark daughters had been returned to the fold safe and sound and the Lannisters had relinquished half the kingdom to them.

Melara glanced at her good mother who was smiling and talking with Sansa, one hand resting casually on her enormous belly.

She narrowed her eyes slightly at the picture for while it seemed simple enough, she thought she saw the hand atop the stomach tighten slightly for a moment before it relaxed.

 _Maybe I should speak to Robb about staying in Riverrun a little bit longer, at least until the child comes. That way Lady Catelyn is in her own home for the birth. It will take weeks to get back to Winterfell as it is and giving birth to a baby on the road wouldn't be ideal._

Little Arya was staring at her mother's stomach with almost a laser focus. Robb had told her that her expression when she saw that their mother was pregnant was a thing to behold.

Her face had emptied of every expression save for pure wonder and she had laid her hand on her mother's belly almost as if she were a small child again.

"I hope it's a boy," was all she had said and Lady Stark had looked on the verge of tears.

Sansa meanwhile was fairly glowing with happiness and Melara could tell that the time she had spent back with her family had been good for her. Her sensitivity and vulnerability would likely always be there but with the love and attention of her family it would retreat.

"Are we going home after this?" she asked her mother quietly and Lady Catelyn nodded.

"I don't think I'll ever be so glad to leave the south behind," she said quietly. "I want to see the snow again."

"I want to see Bran and Rickon again," Arya piped up. "And I want to go horseback riding. And I want to see Maester Luwin, and I – "

"I think its safe to say there are many things we want to see and do," their mother interrupted gently.

Melara smiled as she took a sip from her wine glass. Their excitement was almost infectious and she was beginning to feel it herself. Seeing the godswood of the northern keep was one thing but be able to explore it for herself was something that she was looking forward to.

She was distracted from her thoughts when Wyn placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned forward so he could whisper in her ear.

"I think this is by far the most relaxed celebration I've ever been to.

"Well why wouldn't it be?" Melara asked. "There's no more war to fight and soon, no Stark will no longer have to fear for their safety."

He gave her a severe look and she simply smiled at him before turning back to her food. A large shaggy head brushed her hand and she looked beneath the table with a smirk to see Grey Wind pushing at her.

"You're a walking belly with a mouth you know that don't you?" she murmured as she patted the large head to which the wolf made a huffing sound and then dropped down onto all fours again.

"There are times when I think he likes you more than me," Robb said wryly turning to her.

"Nonsense," Melara scoffed. "His affection wavers between who feeds and scratches his head the most."

Robb threw back his head and laughed. "I think that may very well be true. I suppose I'm going to have to watch how much that he receives when there are no more battles to fight."

Melara looked at him carefully. "You almost sound disappointed."

"Not at all," Robb said quickly. "I suppose it is a little jarring to switch so quickly from war to politics. War is something that I know, something I'm good at. Politics is something that I don't."

"Well then that's where I come in," Melara said. "You forget where I grew up. The Twins is itself its own little kingdom in which there is a complicated network of politics and intrigues where almost everyone is fighting for a piece of power. What do you think this marriage was originally based on? It was a play by my father for more power than he had. What he didn't know was that I would take matters into my own hands in order to get to know you. Power in my family is constantly changing hands. That is on a smaller scale what it will sort of be like governing your own realm. Everyone will want a piece of what you have. The trick is how to hold on to it while also making them believe they are receiving what they want."

Robb smiled at her and shook his head. "I don't hold your father in much regard as I don't know him but I happen to think that one of the smartest things he did thus far was arranging this marriage with my mother."

"He has his moments of occasional brilliance," Melara said chuckling into her goblet. "But thankfully those are few and far between. Right now he's probably buried himself in his cups."

To her point, she nodded at one of the tables on the far right side of the room where several of the more distasteful Freys had chosen to congregate and where her father had set up his base. He was casually sipping from his wine glass and smiling to himself as if he possessed three times his natural brains.

In that moment, Melara wondered what he was thinking about but then decided it was probably better that she didn't know.

"Speaking of cups," Robb said reaching for the decanter in front of them to top off his own glass. "I suppose now is as good a time as any to make the customary toast."

"Ah, now comes the more tedious parts of a wedding feast," Melara muttered and Robb chuckled. "It will be over before you know it and before long we will be on to much more…important things."

His blue eyes seemed to smoulder with a dark intensity and the brunette felt some hot slither about in her stomach. She knew that look, she had seen it many times before in her previous life. And just like those times, she relished it.

"Well then I would suggest that you get on with it," she said in a low heated whisper. "The night is getting older."

If it were possible, Robb's eyes grew even darker.

"As you wish my queen," he said in a low growl, a sound which sent shivers down the brunette's spine.

Getting to his feet, Robb took hold of the knife resting near his plate and tapped it a few times against the glass goblet. The result was a high and clear chiming sound that rang throughout the room, cutting through the noise like a blade.

Instantly all conversation died and a few hundred pairs of eyes immediately focused on him.

"This is a day of celebration," he began. "We as a new nation have succeeded where our ancestors have failed. Torrhen Stark rode forth from the north some three hundred years ago to repel the Targaryen invaders and he bent the knee to avoid the slaughter of his people.

"On this day we have faced different adversaries but ones with the same intent: power. And we have prevailed against them. Never again will the Trident have to fear the attacks of the Lannisters or the reeving of their lands from outsiders. Never again will the North have to fear a call to arms from the south. We are a new nation now, governed under different principles and laws; two regions with one ruler.

"And on this day, the day of my wedding it is only appropriate that I a man of the north take for my bride a woman of the south as a symbolic gesture of the future awaiting the two regions."

Melara raised an eyebrow at her new husband, not sure if she should laugh or remain silent. _You're laying it on a bit thick their Robb. How much of this is what you actually feel and how much is celebratory pomp?_

"My lords and ladies, on this day I declare that I will bring you to a new future, a better and brighter one than this part of the country has seen in decades. No longer will we have to fear Lannister treachery for we have repelled them once and for all. Let us now look to the future and prepare ourselves accordingly,"

Robb said, his voice growing louder as a new purpose seemed to settle on his shoulders. "For winter is coming!"

"Winter is coming!" the lords and ladies of the north as well as their guards roared back. Many of the southern lords didn't respond and Melara could some of her more addled headed family member rolling their eyes but she decided to pay them no mind.

Robb raised the goblet of wine to his lips and drank deeply from it and the rest of the room did the same.

When he sat back down Melara smiled slightly and leaned over to him. "You Starks are so dramatic."

"How so?" Robb asked curiously.

"That speech sounded like the sort of declaration you would make before entering a battle," Melara explained. "It's a bit amusing how you made it seem as if a war was still going on even though one has just ended."

Robb grimaced. "I did tell you war was something I was better at than politics."

Melara simply chuckled and continued with her meal. Gradually Robb did also and between bites continued conversing with his family.

Just then, there was the sound of a chair being scraped back and Melara looked up and saw with surprise that her father had gotten to his feet.

Robb too had noticed this and he gave the lord of the crossing his attention. "You have something to say Lord Walder?"

"I do," the old man croaked. "I feel I have been remiss in my duties as father of the bride your grace. My lovely daughter has just been made a queen and meat and wine have been offered to her. But yet there is something lacking. My king has married and I owe him a wedding gift."

He raised his hand and immediately the soft melodious tunes of the musicians in the corner gave way to a song that Melara had never heard before.

She was even further surprised when one of the musicians put his flute aside and began to sing. His voice was deep and melodious and caught her attention immediately.

 _"_ _And who are you, the proud lord said, "that I must bow so low?"  
"Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know.  
In coat of gold, or coat of red. The lion still has claws.  
And mine are long and sharp my lord, as long and sharp as yours."_

 _Merlin what an odd song,_ Melara thought to herself as she looked around. No one else seemed to be affected by it, in fact no one else seemed to be paying attention.

She frowned as an uneasy feeling entered the pit of her stomach.

Something didn't seem quite right.

 _And so he spoke and so he spoke,  
That Lord of Castamere  
And now the rains weep over his hall  
With no one there to hear.  
Yes now the rains weep over his hall  
And not a soul to hear._

Melara's eyes narrowed even further at the continuation of the lyrics. This song was beginning to sound eerily familiar. And Castamere…where did she know that name from?

She glanced at the rest of the Starks to see that Lady Catelyn had suddenly frozen in her seat, her eyes suddenly fixed upon the form of Lord Bolton who had suddenly appeared next to her.

Melara tensed, her eyes narrowing. What in Merlin's name was going on here?

And then she saw it.

Lurking out of the shadows came an unknown figure heading straight for Lady Catelyn. Melara couldn't see his features but she saw enough to recognize the shape of a long knife in his hand.

He paused behind her chair and raised the blade and Melara jumped to her feet, knowing there wasn't a second more to lose.

"Accio," she hissed and the blade immediately flew from the hand of the figure and into her own blade upright.

To her disgust and horror the man about to perform the heinous act of killing a mother and her unborn child was her half brother Lothar Frey.

Grey Wind let out a growl and leapt from underneath the table to land on the startled Frey son who fell with a horrible cry beneath the large wolf's claws.

There was a sickening tearing sound as the ancient creature sliced into his first live meal in many weeks. The floor was instantly coated by sprays of blood and Arya leapt up from her chair with a muffled curse that she must have learned from Sandor Clegane.

Sansa screamed and cowered in her chair and Robb stood up so fast that his chair was knocked over in the process.

"What is the meaning of this?!" he roared.

Walder Frey who looked surprised at the strange turn of events that had occurred, faltered and then seemed to rally for his smile returned. "A wedding present my king. One that contains more than a singular part."

At his words, the music immediately died and the air was suddenly filled with decisive twanging sounds.

Melara jerked her head up in time to see a group of shadows from the gallery above the great hall loose a contingent of arrows….straight for the head table and for Robb.

"Get down!" she screamed and grabbed Robb's hand on the left and Wyn's on the right and all members of the head table collectively dove under the table.

"What is father doing?!" Will yelled as the table was peppered with arrows, missing many of them by mere inches.

Melara opened her mouth to answer, but just as she had done so….that was when all hell broke loose.

The large doors on the far end of the great hall were suddenly thrown open with a bang and to her horror, Melara saw a group of unrecognizable soldiers striding in. In their wake lay the bodies of men she did recognize as Stark guards.

A cold feeling settled in the pit of her stomach when she realized what was happening. This wedding was a farce.

 _My father just wanted us all together so he could do away with the Starks and Tullys in one fell swoop. But what could he possibly have to gain from this? I was marrying Robb, he was fulfilling the contract!_

 _He's not working alone,_ a dark voice in her mind whispered and the lyrics of the song that had just been sung wafted through her mind.

 _A lion still has claws…._

Lannisters.

Who had the most to gain from Robb and all the Stark's death? Who had been humiliated in the eyes of the realm for failing to protect his son and keep? Who had been losing the war before the contract had been signed?

Tywin Lannister.

With that realization, a cold rage settled in the pit of Melara's stomach and she turned to her brothers as the arrows continued to rain down on them.

"We only have a few seconds before those guards are upon us," she snapped at them. "Get Roslin out of here and then return to defend the king."

Wyn stared at her for a moment before he nodded and turned to Ollie. "Get Roslin to her rooms and lock the door."

The tone in his older brother's voice was all he needed to hear as a pale Ollie nodded before grabbing a cowering Roslin's hand and all but dragging her down the steps towards one of the side doors near the dais.

The air was filled with the screams and yells of people falling to the sword and the clashing of metal against metal. This was complimented by the feral growls of Grey Wind as he raced about the room tearing through Lannister and traitorous Frey shoulders with his teeth.

It was going to be a massacre in here, already bodies were dropping like flies. Tables had been overturned and food and wine was scattered all over the floor.

Robb who had had a few seconds to recover, pulled his sword from his sheath and bared his teeth at the oncoming shoulders.

"Melara, get my mother and sister's to safety. With your magic, you're the only one who guarantee that they remain unharmed. If I'm going to die, I'd rather not die like a rat hiding beneath a table."

And without giving her a moment to respond, he drew his sword and leapt out from behind the table to immediately find himself in combat with a Lannister soldier who was coming for him with bared teeth.

"Go!" Wyn snapped at her. "We will help protect the king until you come back."

He didn't say _if you come back,_ knowing with her magic she was the best chance to get them all out alive.

Melara nodded fiercely and then dove out from behind the table and raised her hands at the onslaught of arrows that were still coming.

"Protego!" she screamed and in the blink of an eye, a red energy shield of magic appeared like a dome over the table which bought them a few seconds.

"Come on!" She said reaching for Sansa and Catelyn's hands. "We don't have much time."

"What's going on?" Arya demanded. Still being very young it hadn't quite clicked with her what was truly happening.

"We've been betrayed," Melara snapped. "And I need to get you to safety."

"What about Robb?" Catelyn said fearfully with her arms wrapped around her belly. Her face was white and pinched with strain.

"My brothers will protect him as will his wolf," Melara said but she was saying it mostly to herself rather than to them. "Now hurry."

Sansa grabbed her younger sister's hand and the four women hustled as fast as they could off the dais and toward one of the side doors.

They had gone no more than two steps when they were confronted with several soldiers who had sensed weakness and cut them off before they could get out of the hall.

Judging by their smirks they thought they could take, two young girls, a pregnant mother and a bride in her wedding dress.

 _I don't have time for this,_ Melara thought impatiently and went for the quickest spell that she could think of.

"Aveda Kedavra," she muttered twice in quick succession and watched with grim satisfaction as a jet of green light burst out of her hand and struck the two of them before they fell like rag dolls.

"What did you do?" Lady Catelyn asked fearfully as Melara led them over the bodies and through the door.

"I killed them," Melara said as they entered the hallway beyond the great hall. "They were in my way."

"How did you do that?" Arya Stark demanded. "You just said a word and there was green light and then they were dead on the floor!"

"Arya I will be happy to explain everything once this is all over," Melara said as she looked wildly about. "But for right now, I need to get you to safety and then get back to Robb before my treacherous father does something even more foolish."

She quickly cast the disillusionment charm on herself and the others before leading them quickly down the hall.

"Why would Walder Frey do this?" Catelyn demanded as they hurried down the hall, a hall that was eerily silent as there were many soldiers most likely in the great hall, another thought that made Melara sick to her stomach and made her feet move faster.

"I don't think he was the mastermind behind this," She said as they mounted the stairs at the end of the hall. "I think that credit belongs to Tywin Lannister."

Judging from the thunderous silence behind her, she wasn't alone in those thoughts.

"Lady Catelyn, where is your room?" she asked. "I'll leave the three of you there."

"Just down the hall," her good mother panted.

They hurried towards the door that she had indicated and Melara wrenched it open so the three could enter.

"Sansa, Arya, push the furniture against the door and get back against the wall. I'm going to lock this door and ensure that no one is able to enter it," she said sharply and they did as she asked.

"Are you going back to my brother now?" Arya demanded.

"Yes," Melara said equally as harshly. "And I promise you, I will bring him back."

With those words she slammed the door shut and placed the strongest locking charm she could think of on it.

Once that was done, she focused on the long knives she had gotten from her brother that were still in her own guest rooms. "Accio swords."

There was a long whistling sound and the brunette opened her eyes to find a weighty object in each hand.

Then she bent down and tore off the bottom half of that beautiful wedding dress so it wouldn't impede her.

That done….she tore off down the hall, running as fast as she could for the great hall.

The Lannisters had tried for revenge and she was about to take her own vengeance from the lions.

She would pull out each and every long and sharp claw and prove that hers were longer than theirs.

 _Hold on Robb,_ she thought grimly as she ran, naked swords in her hands, _I'm coming._

Ω

Sansa was panting by the time she finished pushing the enormous wardrobe against the door and Arya wasn't much better.

Her mind was whirling with loose thoughts. They had been attacked in her mother's own home by Freys and disguised Lannisters alike and who knew what was going on down in the great hall.

Was Robb alive, was he coming back.

 _Melara promised,_ she thought to herself fiercely. _She got you out of the capital didn't she, and she got you out of that room. If anyone can protect Robb, it's her._

She turned and then was further alarmed to see her mother's face twisted with pain and her hands gripping her belly.

"Mother what is it?" she said flying across the room to her side and helping her to sit down on the bed.

It was then that she noticed the small puddle of water on the floor and staining Catelyn's dress and her breath caught in her throat for she understood what that meant.

"What's wrong?" Arya demanded as she joined her. "What's wrong mother?"

"I….I think I'm in labour," Catelyn said in a tight whisper and a wave of nausea washed over Sansa.

They were locked in a room while a battle was going on around them and there was no maester to be found to help her mother.

No one was there to help them and as she tried to think frantically of what to do, the eerie silence was punctuated by the soft sounds of Catelyn's desperate pleas to the Mother for mercy.

But no one was there….they were alone.

Ω

 **So I apologize for the lengthy wait on this chapter but I needed time to get it just right. It's a long one so I hope you enjoy it. I know this is a major cliffhanger but we are about to get into the meat of the story and I am excited about the divergence from canon. I hope you are too. Don't forget to review and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Her footsteps sounded loud in her ears as she tore through the halls and past statues of the forebears of House Tully. They smacked on the stones alarmingly and Melara knew if anyone was around one of the corners in front of her, she would be running right into a trap.

But her rage and desperation were too great at this point for her to care.  
Her father had lured them all into a trap, a trap perpetuated by Roose Bolton and the Lannisters.

But why?

What had been his end game? Robb had fulfilled his terms of the agreement, she had been made queen and the Lannisters right at this moment were the laughingstock of the seven kingdoms.

Tywin Lannister must have been truly desperate to propose a scheme like this as there was no way Walder Frey had the foresight or resources to come up with this on his own.

Lannister would have had to offer him protection as well as power. But what sort of power?  
As she neared the bottom of the stairs and gazed down the long hallway with the doors to the great hall directly at the end, Melara was relieved to hear the sounds of yelling and clashing metal ahead of her.

An eerie silence like there was occurring in the upper hallways of the stronghold would have made her sick to her stomach.

But no, the fight was still going on and she aimed to join it as soon as possible.

As she tore out down the hall running like a banshee with her long hair half falling out of its braid, Melara would imagine later that she must look a sight but her focus was solely on the doors ahead of her that were closing in fast.

As she got halfway down the hall, the sound of shouts grew louder up ahead and Melara's eyes caught sight of three men in plain clothes with naked swords emerging from one of the hallways to the left. What alarmed her was the fact that their blades were slick with blood and she didn't recognize them.

She immediately released two killing curses and a third stunning charm. She only needed one of them alive to talk later.

Instantly all three crumpled to the ground like rag dolls and Melara silenced the one she had stunned as she ran past. No sense in letting anyone else in the vicinity hear his cries for help before she had questioned him thoroughly after all this was over.

She skidded to a stop in front of the doors to the Great Hall and took a deep breath to calm her racing heart beat.

She was still disillusioned which would serve her well for the next little while. The element of surprise would be key.

All of a sudden the twang of a bow and arrow caught her attention and she cursed, remembering the bastard in the gallery.

He would be her first target.

She yanked the large door open and slipped through quietly before looking around to get her bearings.

In the next instant, she almost tripped over a body and grimaced before looking down to see who it was.

As it was no one she recognized, she released a sigh of relief before turning to look about the room.

It seemed her brothers and Robb had been busy in their absence.

The wood of the floor was slick with blood and bodies littered the great hall of the Tully stronghold. Some bore Stark livery, others were in plain clothes like the men she had subdued outside and still others were in armor.

But the bodies that caught her attention were still very much alive but possibly not about to be so for much longer.

The hall itself was enormous and there were still skirmishes going on all across it. As she looked around however, she could no longer hear the growls of Grey Wind and her heart leapt into her throat.

But her alarm at the wolf's absence was nothing compared to her reaction when she looked right.

Her eyes caught sight of her three older brother down on their knees hands behind their heads with naked swords placed at their necks.

To her great shock, several of her half brothers were the ones holding the blades with feral and almost insane grins on their faces.

She recognized Tytos, the son of her half brother Jared as well as Edwyn, the heir to the Twins after Stevron. The others she didn't but saw the crest on the cloaks and knew them for Bolton men.

They were traitors regardless.

The most grievous act of kinslaying was about to be committed. Wyn's hands were bloody and his wedding clothes were torn making Melara believe he had fought like a wild animal. Next to him, Ben's face was almost purple with rage and Will was still looking towards the doors as if he were waiting for help to arrive.

The candles lit in the corners of the room were dancing wildly against the stones of the wall casting eerie shadows on the ceilings and floors.

The room itself was a mess not even counting the bodies with tables overturned, egregious amounts of food and wine toppled on the floor and the stink of blood and entrails in the air.

And then she saw the arrow sticking out of Ben's side that was dripping blood on the floor and bit down on her lips to avoid cursing every god in this new world.

 _For every drop of blood that falls from those I love, I will spill a gallon of theirs._

"We don't mean to kill you brother," Tytos said with a cruel smile. "But you're a liability right now and we need you out of the way. Our father has more than enough children to fill your absence."

"I see blood means nothing in this family," Wyn spat. "What was the end game of all of this? Father had what he wanted, a queen. What was the point?"

"Foolish boy," said another cold voice and Melara jerked her head to the right in time to see Roose Bolton standing several feet from her kneeling husband with a circle of Bolton men surrounding him.

There was a long knife against Robb's throat and he was currently being restrained by some of Bolton's men. His face was furious and his eyes were like that of a wild animal looking for something to devour. There was a trail of red dripping down the side of his face from some cut no doubt in his hairline. To her horror, there was a long cut in his upper left thigh which no doubt had slowed him down during the fighting. His fists were bloody and it was taking two men to keep him from moving.

Melara bit down on her tongue so hard that she tasted blood.

"It's not anything personal," he said calmly. "Your lord father just received an offer he liked better. And he saw a chance to eliminate any threats in the carrying out of this power play. You can't blame him for taking advantage of it."

Wyn's eyes narrowed furiously up at the Leech Lord. "And what might be so great that – "

His furious monologue was cut short when his mind caught up with his mouth and his eyes widened terribly. "No."

"Indeed," said another creaky voice and Melara's head whipped around to see her bastard of a father emerge from somewhere and begin to slowly make his way through the bodies and smashed food towards them. His face full of a thousand wrinkles was grinning madly and Melara suddenly wanted nothing more in the world to make sure he never smiled again.

"You played your role perfectly my Lord Bolton," he said coming to a stop in front of the Leech Lord. "Soon you will take the north, I will take the Trident and the realm will know peace once more."

"Leave out these pompous words," Bolton said quietly. "It is enough that our goal is complete."

He turned back to Robb then with a tiny smile of triumph and a dark look in those small pale eyes of his. "Jaime Lannister sends his regards."

"No!" Wyn roared.

And the ringing that had been growing steadily in Melara's ears rose with a deafening concussion and became a roar.

She didn't even have to mutter the words to the summoning charm before Bolton's knife was flying through the air into her outstretched hand.

Bolton whirled around and drew his sword in one smooth motion. All parties still in the room reeled towards the spot where the knife had gone with muffled curses of exclamation.

Then and only then did she release the charm on herself.

There was a moment of stunned silence and the brunette decided to take advantage of it. She shot out a hand and with three quick words, stunned her half brothers and her bumbling oaf of a father standing just behind him.

They hadn't even hit the ground yet when she turned to Roose Bolton and whispered a curse she had never uttered with so much hate.

 _"Crucio."_

The effect was instantaneous.

Bolton stiffened up like a marionette that had had its strings pulled tight and dropped to one knee, his face contorting and twisting in various expressions of agony.

"Melara?" Robb breathed in disbelief.

The brunette paid her husband no attention for a moment as she stalked towards the offending worm who had decided he was going to betray all that he had sworn oaths to.

Wyn, Ben and Will were all struggling to free themselves from their bonds and with a quick no look spell, Melara slashed through their bonds.

The brunette came to a stop in front of Bolton who was now on the ground from the effects of the curse and writhing in agony. She kicked his sword away and released it briefly.

"Consider the message received Lord Bolton," she murmured in a voice so cold it was like new fallen snow. "And now if you will be so kind as to allow me to ask you to relay one of my own."

She tightened her fist again without having to even utter the curse because the hate was pouring like hot poison through her blood. She remembered when Alastor Moody had relayed to their fourth year class that in order for the curse to actually work, you had to mean the words every time you said them.

Well….Melara wasn't sure she had ever experienced true hate until right this moment. She kept tightening her fist harder and harder until finally Bolton let out a blood curdling scream that seemed to bring the fighting going on across the hall to a complete halt.

The scream continued for a few seconds until it died to a horrid gurgle as the Leech Lord began to choke on his own blood.

Out of the corner of her eye, Melara felt a surge of relief go through her when she saw Robb manage to struggle to get to his feet. His hands were still bound but he was standing unsteadily despite the arrow still lodged in the flesh of his leg.

The presence of the arrow made her anger spike and she tightened her fist again.

Bolton was now choking horrifically and spitting up grotesque gobs of black blood on to the stone floor. Somehow he had managed to roll over but was nowhere close to being able to get to his knees.

Finally Melara released the spell and the choking retching man fell to the floor utterly spent.

There was a roar from somewhere behind them and Melara whirled around just in time to see one of the men in Bolton livery charging towards her.

The words to a spell were on her lips, but Robb surprised her by somehow bending down and seizing Bolton's sword that was still lying on the floor. He swung it up with his left arm and caught the charging foe on the chin, rocking him backward and sending a spray of blood in a wild arc everywhere.

Robb muttered curses under his breath and lowered the sword immediately, almost dropping it.

Wyn gave her a careful look to make sure she was alright and when the two nodded at each other, her three brothers ran off into the fight that had suddenly resumed in earnest.

Metal was clashing all around them and shouts and curses rang throughout the hall like the bells of an old church announcing the hour.

Melara's attention however remained focused on the writhing mass of humanity in front of her. Although given what he had been about to do to Robb, she regarded him as lesser than a worm.

"I'm going to give you one chance to speak Bolton before I end your wretched existence," she said in that frigidly cold voice. "It was Lannister who offered you the north didn't he?"

Robb bristled beside her. He had still said nothing and she couldn't bring herself to look at him for she knew if she did she might fall to pieces and display weakness that wasn't allowed in a situation like this.

Instead of answering her question however, Bolton continued spitting blood on the floor and breathing as deeply as possible trying to get the air back into his lungs.

"What…are…you?" he finally managed to say and Melara gritted her teeth as she was losing patience.

"I think we've established that what I am is far beyond anything you are," she said. "You betrayed the north and the Trident and your king and the last thing you will ever know….is that you failed."

And then before he could get the chance to speak again, Melara stabbed downward with one of her blades and impaled Bolton through his neck into the floor.

She didn't wait to watch the blood pump out of him like a fountain as his movements slowed to twitching.

The couple stared down at the wretched man as his blood continued to leech into the floor and the movements became few and far between. It probably wasn't the wisest idea to give themselves so much time but in her brief display of magic, Melara had intimidated enough people into giving them a birth at least for a moment. And the unnatural show of rage and magic had fueled whatever Stark and Tully men that were still in the room to continue fighting for their lives.

"Are you alright?" the brunette asked when she was certain that the miserable wretch was dead.

"Getting there," Robb said with a wince. He bent and picked up the sword he had recently dropped. "Where are my mother and sisters?"

"I locked them in your mother's chambers and sealed the door," Melara said in a low voice turning back to the frothing throng of swords and bodies that were closing in upon them. "No one will be able to get in."

"Good," Robb said grimly.

That was the last thing he was able to say before they were once more set upon by men in plain clothes. Melara realized that most of them were probably men belonging to Bolton fighting for their downed Lord or some lesser houses pledged to House Frey who were as gutless as her father was.

Lannister couldn't have sent that many, he seemed to be the sort of person who let others do his dirty work for him and wielded that power with the same deep intent that he used the Mountain in the Targaryen rebellion.

He must have thought that there would be enough Frey and Bolton men in Riverrun to get the job done without him sending a sizable contingent of soldiers.

And he would have been correct.

It almost seemed as if the entirety of House Frey was fighting against them for how many people were still in that room. It prompted Melara to wonder if her entire family had known of this, a concept that was truly shocking.

She supposed as she ducked under blows and sent bodies flying with short bursts of magic that it made sense, no one truly knew the intentions and motivations anything that went on in the walls of the Twins.

She wanted to curse herself for not paying more attention to her father as they had drawn nearer to the wedding. But then she didn't think she was incorrect in thinking he didn't have the brains to pull something like this off.

Which is of course why he had had help.

It seems that both she and Robb had underestimated people…a mistake she was going to be sure not to make again.

In the blur of faces, Melara found herself face to face with one of her half brothers, one of the sons of Perra Royce, Rhaegar by name. She had barely spoken to him throughout her life but he had always had this snivelling smug sort of confidence that made her skin crawl.

It was no less than what he was exuding now.

"Why little sister," he said with a small half smile. "What have you been hiding all these years? Father could have made great use of those talents you have.

Shame you're wasting it with the wrong intentions."

He raised his sword and attempted to hack at her and she ducked away from it, prompting a laugh out of him. It didn't last long though

Melara's only response to this was a snarl before she slashed her hand downward, the words to the cutting charm all but spitting from her lips.

Instantly a wide gash opened up in Rhaegar's throat that dropped him to his knees like a stone.

"You can forget about Father's infallible plans," she said standing over him as he slowly toppled over. "You won't need them anymore."

She turned just in time to see yet another one of her half siblings rush at her, sword raised but was stopped from attacking him when all of a sudden the silver tip of a blade protruded from his chest like the tongue of some deadly serpent appearing right before it struck.

The expression of the man's face was one of almost comical surprise as he glanced down from the blade emerging from his chest and back up at her before he was pushed off the sword and to the ground in a heap from the person behind her.

Standing there with an expression of absolute ferocity on his face was Wyn. He sent a grin at her that might have scared her had it been coming from anyone else.

"You need to watch yourself Mel," he barked, "I thought Ben taught you better than that."

Melara rolled her eyes. "He also said not to waste breath talking during fighting so now we've broken both of his rules."

She cut off after that as they were soon beset on all sides by men who either valued loyalty to her father above all else or simply had a death wish.

"Where's Ollie?" she demanded. "I thought he would have been back by now."

Wyn didn't answer, but the snarl on his lips twitched slightly as if he had suddenly remembered his younger brother and sister.

The silence was telling for Melara who released a small growl of her own and there was extra bite behind the next thrusts of her long knives.

In general however, not many words were exchanged as every muscle was being used to its fullest extent.

Sprays of blood were flying everywhere as Melara and her brothers fought for their lives against their traitorous family members, Bolton men and Frey bannermen alike.

It stunned and enraged the brunette just how deep the treachery had gone if the men fighting against them were any indication of how many knew of the deception.

At some points, her and Robb were fighting together and other times they were fighting apart, at some times she was using exclusively her magic and other times she was twirling her blades so fast they appeared as windmills.

But one thing she did know was that the fight was too long and too full of people for this to have been merely a half hazard plan. No, this had taken weeks, possibly months of planning, plotting and scheming in order to be realized.

 _How could I not have known?_ She thought desperately to herself. _How could I not have sensed something?! Anything?!_

The clashes and the screams almost seemed to blend together and the sprays of blood that wet her arms and spattered against her face must have made her look like something out of a nightmare.

But finally…finally, she swung her ducked under a final blow, slashed the legs of her foe out from under him and in the back cut of the same stroke, hit him in the head.

And as he fell, Melara realized that it was over and she bent over at the waist, hands pressed against her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

There were several breaths of long silence that she allowed herself but after a moment she and looked over the absolute carnage that had been left behind.

Needless to say it made the mess after the battle of Hogwarts look like something out a Muggle magazine for better Homes and Gardens. At least that was Granger had told her the magazine was called.

Bodies were everywhere, the blood on the floors had created a small pool flooding the room and allowing for absolutely grotesque noises once they lifted their feet.

There were still a few Bolton men standing on the other side of the hall and when they saw the results of the battle they attempted to flee. Before they had taken more than a few steps however, Melara waved her hand and immobilized them, watching hollowly as they fell to the floor in a heap.

She turned and locked eyes with her brothers who were also wearing similar expressions of shock at the scene before them.

The tables that hadn't been destroyed in the fighting were cracked in half and the blood and wine that had been upset were mixing horrifically with the blood on the floor creating a smell that caused acidic bile to rise in her throat.

The stench of spilled entrails was also manifesting in a heady mixture with the rough rusty smell of freshly spilled blood causing Melara to have to breathe through her mouth.

Scattered limbs littered the floor and sprays of blood decorated the walls in a horrific gothic style of art.

Somehow though the candles had remained undisturbed and were still burning casting eerie shadows on the bloody walls like ghosts dancing in glee over the battle they had just witnessed.

She straightened up completely then and immediately hissed with pain, pressing her left hand to her side. She glanced down at it and when her palm came away bloody, Melara released several choice curses.

Her discomfort was thankfully noticed by Wyn and he hurried over to her. "Gods Mel, are you alright?"

The brunette nodded a hissed through another wave of pain. "I think I was just grazed with a knife. I didn't feel it because there was no time to think." She looked around then with a frown. "Where's Robb?"

Wyn reeled around and so did her other two brothers who were assessing each other for injury a few feet away.

Melara started to feel panic rise in her chest when she caught sight of her husband standing across the room with his back to her. He was staring down at someone or something.

Relief crashed over her like a wave and she dashed for him as fast as the bodies in her way would allow. "Robb!"

He turned around and when he saw her the hard lines in his face seemed to relax somewhat. He took a few steps towards her and the two grasped hands, looking each other over, not saying anything, speechless with relief.

She ran her hands quickly up his arms making sure there weren't any immediate pressing wounds and was gratified when he did the same thing for her.

They both realized at the moment that the time for passionate embraces was not currently.

Robb's blue eyes narrowed when he caught sight of the blood on her side and he gently placed a hand on her side and she hissed.

When he glanced up at her sharply she hurried to reassure him with a smile. "It's just a scratch. The white dress makes it look worse than it is."

He nodded grimly and then turned to her brothers. "Were there any survivors?"

"Outside of the ones Melara stunned your grace, no," Wyn said. "We have yet to look outside of these walls however."

Robb nodded. "We will do so in a moment, but first…."

He turned back around and Melara realized he was staring down at the stunned body of her father, currently lying next to the grey and bloodied corpse of Roose Bolton.

"We need answers," she said just as grimly and he nodded.

Ben glanced at his brothers and stepped forward. "Perhaps your grace it would be beneficial to see if there are other survivors. Your entire army was not here correct?"

Robb shook his head, "no it wasn't. I only invited my most trusted lords. Search the castle and see if any of our men still live. However be careful, I can't afford to lose anymore good men."

They nodded and hurried off to search through the carnage for anyone still alive.

Once they were gone, Robb turned back to Melara and gestured down at an unconscious Lord Walder. "Can you wake him?"

She nodded but instead of using magic, the brunette strode over to one of the tables that had miraculously managed to remain upright and seized the decanter of wine that was sitting in the middle of it.

She uncorked it and tipped the entire thing over into the face of Walder Frey.

It took a moment but finally he coughed and came awake sputtering. He blinked his eyes several times as if trying to focus and then they widened when he was able to focus on the fact that there were people standing above him and discern who they were.

"Lord Walder," Robb said before the man could open his mouth. "We have a few questions for you."

The man looked back and forth between them, his entire body tensing and sensing what he was about to do, Melara spoke up.

"If you so much as try to run Father, I will throw you back to the ground where you belong."

The man's eyes darted back and forth between Melara and Robb even faster and he seemed to realize that he wasn't going to get out of this.

So finally he settled on pandering.

"Your grace I – "

"What did Tywin Lannister offer you?" Robb ground out and Old Walder blinked as if he hadn't been anticipating the question. "What?"

"You heard him," Melara said softly, her hands clenched into fists. "What did Tywin Lannister offer you?"

Frey turned to her and his beady eyes narrowed. "My dearest daughter I don't – "

" _Do not_ test me old man," the brunette nearly spat. "I heard your words while your dog Bolton was holding a knife to my husband's throat. You were to get the Trident and he was to get the North. But what else was there? In order to pull something like this off the price must have been high. Now what was it?"

Walder was now looking genuinely afraid but still he said nothing and the brunette was steadily losing patience.

"Very well then," she said and tightened her hand into a fist. _"Crucio."_

It didn't take the old man nearly as long to break as it did Bolton. But if it were at all possible, the hate for Melara was even worse this time.

Walder's eyes bulged in his head at the unexpected and horrific display of pain and he let out a very pathetic squeal. A moment later the air was filled with a very different smell and Melara grimaced before releasing the curse and leaving the panting whimpering man in a heap on the floor.

She glanced at Robb who's eyes were hard as he gazed down at the quivering mass of flesh in front of him.

"What form of magic is that?" he asked without looking at her.

"It's a curse," Melara replied. "It's called the Cruciatus Curse. It's meant to inflict the maximum amount of pain upon a person as possible. Picture child birth….but three times worse."

A muscle jerked in Robb's cheek but he nodded as he continued his boring stare down at Walder.

"Please, please no more," the man whimpered and Melara muttered several choice curses under her breath at what a pathetic man her father was.

"Certainly," she said. "But first tell us what Tywin Lannister offered you."

Walder mumbled something under his breath and Melara leaned closer. "Speak up father, I can't hear you."

"A crown," the old man croaked. "A crown for you."

Of all the treason that Melara had heard that day…this was surely the worst. A chill crept into her blood that literally made her shake for a moment. Robb stiffened beside her and when she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, she saw that his hands had curled into fists and his jaw was clenched so hard she thought it might break.

"A queen?" she asked softly and bent down slowly so she was kneeling in front of her father. "He offered to make me King Joffrey's queen and give you the Trident didn't he? And this wedding was meant to take out the north's and Riverlands' heirs respectively. And it was just too good of an opportunity to pass up wasn't it?"

Beside her, Robb was bristling with rage and she couldn't blame him…they had all been played for fools.

Walder said nothing and then hit her with the most absurd speech she had ever heard. "It was only for your good my daughter…for the good of this family."

Melara closed her eyes briefly. "Spare me your tales of family father. You held knives to Wyn, Ben and Will's throats and your bannermen attacked me as if I were a deer running from the hunting hounds. This was never about this family. This was about power…and you didn't care how you got it. This was about Bolton's greed and Lannister's bruised ego, a man who is so afraid that his cock size has lessened in the eyes of the realm that he would commit treason."

She got back to her feet and glanced at Robb. "What shall we do with him?"

Robb opened his mouth to reply but was silenced when from out of the great hall's doors and somewhere down the hall…there came a bloodcurdling howl. It was one of pain, grief and utter agony so much so that Melara nearly dropped her knives. Her eyes went wide and she whirled towards the doors. "That was Wyn."

Those words were the only ones spoken before she tore for the door, leaping over bodies as fast as her legs would allow her, shoving aside tables that were in her way. She heard Robb hard on her heels and she didn't even think about what he had done to subdue her father without the use of magic, all that mattered was getting to the source of the scream.

She came upon it soon enough.

As soon as the brunette ran through the doors of the great hall, she was confronted with several other bodies lying on the ground. They were the bodies of Stark guards who had no doubt been killed before the battle ensued.

She looked wildly to the right and to the left before seeing a group kneeling on the ground at the far end of the long hallway on her right hand side.

Immediately Melara sprinted in that direction and felt Robb beside her, running nearly as hard as she was.

The sound of their footsteps must have been as loud as a gunshot for as soon as they neared, the three figures kneeling turned and Melara caught sight of Wyn.

Her heart leapt into her throat at the haunted and hollowed look in his eyes and the way he quickly strode towards her scared her even more.

"Melara don't look," he said stepping in front of her and seizing her arms.

"Damn it Wyn!" she said pulling at him. "What is it?!"

Robb had skidded to a halt beside her other two brothers and it only took her a few seconds to see his face turn grey.

Just then, Will let out a muffled sob and pressed a fist against his mouth as if he were trying to keep himself quiet and Melara's nerve broke.

She yanked herself free from her older brother and rushed forward…only to come to a screeching halt when she was confronted with a scene that would forever be seared into her nightmares.

The sight of blood had never frightened her as she had seen so much of it over the course of her two lives. Killing was never galling to her as she had done it in her first life and now she had done it here. She was pragmatic, level headed and conniving to the point where she was able to compartmentalize a great many things.

But this…this was something that shattered all of her facades, tore down every wall she'd ever built and bored right into the sensitive center of her heart, a place she thought she had carefully covered long ago.

"Ollie?" she whispered, her voice shaking. "Roslin?"

Melara took several shaky steps forward and then dropped to her knees as the last of whatever adrenaline she had summoned gave out. No one was there to catch her though as her brothers were still dealing with their own shock.

It wouldn't have mattered however, she was beyond hearing anyone at this point.

She reached out a hand for Ollie's stiff fingers, fingers that were bruised and smeared with dried blood. His hands weren't cold yet so it was unlikely he had been lying here for long, but the gaping wound in his stomach made it abundantly clear that whatever heat he still had left would soon be gone.

His sword was still in his other hand, gripping the hilt for dear life as if he had wished to do nothing else but die with it in his hand.

His hazel eyes were open and glassy, staring up at the ceiling as if he were seeing something that none of the others could.

He most likely had…but they would never know. Although Melara could certainly imagine given the image she looked upon next.

Lying several feet from Ollie was the curled figure of her sister with her dark hair strew about her face as if the expression on her face was too horrific to be seen. Her neck was wrenched at an appalling angle making the manner of her death obvious.

But it was the wounds far lower than her head that made the breath catch on Melara's throat and the nausea roll up into her throat like some slowly building wave.

There was blood on the lower part of her dress, enough of it to make Melara certain that her sister had been the victim of the worst crime against woman that a man was able to commit. One arm was curled around her stomach as if she were trying to protect herself and the other was stretched out in front of her as if she were reaching for some form of help that was never going to come.

And Ollie had died trying to prevent it from happening.

Unsteadily, the brunette got to her feet, legs shaking from the force of emotion, grief guilt, rage, all of it.

She stumbled away from the horrific scene and farther down the hall, barely aware that Robb and Wyn were calling her name.

Melara got no more than a few feet down the hall where one of the statues of the Tully ancestors was standing before she could go no further. Her legs gave out, she dropped to her knees and voided the contents of her stomach onto the cold stones.

Even after she had nothing left to purge, her stomach kept clenching and unclenching as if it wished to release everything it had seen from her body.

That was when the shaking came and the deep, tearing gut wrenching sobs ripped through her as painful and sharp as a sword blade. She had to wrap a hand around her stomach to keep her upright and the other around her chest as if she were trying to keep the pieces of herself together, mainly a heart that had shattered into a thousand fragments that she needed to hold in place. Her messy hair fell in a dark curtain about her face hiding her from her view of the hallway and the person coming down it towards her.

She felt a hand on her back and it took every ounce of her strength to look up and see who it was.

The sight of her husband's face, the look of deep grief and sympathy in his eyes was like a second great lancing wound coursing through her. Another sob tore through her then and Robb's only response was to drop to his knees and pull her into his arms, resting her on his lap, holding her as tight as he could.

In a way it was fitting. She had absolutely no strength to do anything in that moment other than release her grief and guilt, so Robb held her when she couldn't hold herself.

He didn't say anything, didn't make any false promises of hope or any assurances that things would be better in time…he simply held on and let her cry.

And cry she did.

The front of his torn tunic was completely soaked by the time the brunette felt any sort of strength to be able to lift her.

And even after the tears stopped flowing, a sort of aching hollowness crept in, sapping her of her energy and draining any desire to move from her.

Thankfully Robb didn't expect any sort of strength from her and his only movement was to settle himself back against the wall so she was sitting more fully in his lap and wrapped his arms more tightly around her as if shielding her from the world.

A long time passed before any sound penetrated her consciousness as Melara just rested her head against Robb's chest while he let her fall to pieces.

After a time, the sound of footsteps could be heard and the brunette vaguely heard Robb say to someone above her head. "Search the castle, seek out any survivors and then gather the army in the courtyard, whatever is left."

"Yes your grace," said an unfamiliar voice. It wasn't one of her brothers. Gods knew they were still in a state of grief and mourning.

Her limbs almost felt leaden as she lay there and she didn't care that someone else other than her family had seen her completely undone.

Words came from her lips then and she didn't know where they had come from or where she had found the energy.

"We need to bury them."

Robb pressed a hard kiss to her forehead and Melara felt his stubbled face scratch against her skin. It was an oddly comforting gesture.

"We will," he whispered back. "They will be buried here."

"No," she whispered back. "No, I promised Roslin I would take her north. I intend to keep that promise." She looked up at Robb then almost as if she were a child making a request. "Can we bury them in Winterfell."

Robb paused for a moment and almost looked surprised by the inquiry but finally he nodded. "Of course. Somewhere on a hill beneath a tree perhaps…in the sunshine."

"Thank you," she whispered back.

As the two continued to lie there in the hallway, Melara couldn't help but think how her sister would have liked that. She had always been a delicate person who appreciated the finer things in life.

If they had had time, Sansa and her would have gotten along well.

Sansa….

All of a sudden a jolt shot through Melara sending her flying upright.

"Robb!" she burst out. "Your mother and your sisters!"

Her husband swore under his breath as he scrambled to his feet. "Gods damn it!"

He grabbed her hand and the two tore off down the hallway, running with the same speed that she had run earlier.

"Which floor?" Robb asked as they ran.

"Second one!" Melara shouted as the wind in the hallway whistled past their ears and they took the stairs two at a time, miraculously not tripping or stumbling.

When they reached the landing, if possible, husband and wife doubled their speed as they ran down the hallway. The portraits and tapestries in the corridor bled into multicolored blurs as the couple ran past.

Melara's heart was pounding in her ears and all she could think was, _please be alright…please be safe…please tell me I didn't fail another family….._

When they skidded to a halt in front of Catelyn Stark's door, Melara fumbled releasing the locking charm on the door and it took her a few extra seconds to open it before Robb wrenched it open.

Upon first glance, Melara was speechless with relief upon seeing Sansa sitting on the bed with Arya on the other side of her, both unharmed.

Arya whirled to face the door as it was thrown open and upon seeing Robb, her tense little face lit up. "Robb!"

She got off the bed and flew towards them, all but hurling herself into her brother's arm. "You're back."

"Yes little wolf," Robb said bending and kissing her messy head of hair.

Arya then turned to Melara gave her a small nod. "You promised."

"I did," the brunette replied. "And here he is."

"Good," Arya said with a sharp nod as if her opinion on her new good sister had been made up.

The somewhat calmer moment was interrupted when Sansa turned to them with wild eyes. "Melara quick! Mother's in labour, her time will be any moment now!"

Both Robb and Melara cursed in complete tandem and the brunette dashed for the bed where Lady Stark was lying. Her stomach was heaving and her face was red from the effort of labour. But it was the amount of blood that was on the sheets that scared Melara the most. She had seen enough blood that day to last a lifetime and its presence told her that something was seriously wrong.

"When did her water break?" she demanded noting the puddle of water on the floor.

"A-About thirty minutes ago," Sansa stammered. "Just after you left us. I think…I think the shock was too much."

"And the blood?" Melara snapped.

"It…It just started coming," Sansa fumbled. "I couldn't stop it…I could do anything other than try and make her comfortable. She…she said she'd been feeling some discomfort all day…but she didn't say anything."

Melara cursed again.

"Mother?" Robb asked crouching by the other side of the bed.

Catelyn slowly turned towards the sound of his voice and upon seeing him her face lit up. "Robb…you're safe."

"For the moment," her son said wryly. "And you can thank Melara for that."

Catelyn caught sight of the brunette on the other side of her and smiled at her. "I knew you were a good match for each other."

Melara swallowed hard. "You're going to be fine my lady." She turned to Arya. "Please bring me that decanter and basin. We're going to need them."

The small girl hurried to do as she asked and when she had the basin in her hand, the brunette muttered the spell to bring forth water and then the spell to heat it.

"You're covered in blood," Sansa said incredulously. "Are you alright?"

"No," Melara said in an empty voice. "But that doesn't matter right now."

She missed the glance Sansa sent at her brother who in turn shook his head as if to tell her not to ask questions.

Once the water was heated she set it at the end of the bed and placed a hand on top of Catelyn's bulging stomach.

"It's not coming," Catelyn panted when she saw Melara's assessment. "Why isn't it coming?"

There was only one explanation Melara could think of and it wasn't a pleasant one.

"The baby could be turned the wrong way my lady," she said and grimaced at the look of panic on Sansa face.

"Can we turn him?" her sister in law asked softly.

Melara took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I could try a movement spell. I've never used it in the context to turn the babe inside the womb. I don't know if it will work."

"Do it," Robb said from his place beside his mother. "She's losing too much blood and we need to try something."

The brunette took another deep breath. "Very well."

This would be a hit or miss spell. In order to move an object, one had to physically see it. The baby was encased in flesh and not visible to the human eye at the moment so using a spell like this was risky.

But what other choice did she have? If something wasn't done and soon, they were likely to lose both Catelyn and the baby.

So she placed her hands on her mother in law's stomach, closed her eyes and prayed to whatever gods that existed in this world for this to work.

 _"Mobilicorpus."_

For a moment nothing happened and then, from beneath Melara's fingers there was a tightening and then a loosening and Catelyn released a startled cry.

"What?" Robb demanded. "What is it?"

"The baby," Melara said in a breathless voice. "The baby's turning!"

Sansa let out a breathless laugh and pressed a hand to her forehead, murmuring words of gratitude to the Mother for her mercy.

"Will Mother be okay?" Arya demanded from her place beside Melara.

Melara opened her mouth to respond when all of a sudden Catelyn gasped again. "It's coming…the baby's coming. I can feel it!"

Immediately Melara got to her feet and seized one of the clean sheets at the end of the bed. She braced herself and cupped the sheet into a bowl like shape.

Sansa, seeing what she was doing grabbed the other end so the baby would land in something soft.

Another few tense moments passed before Catelyn gave one final push and the grim silence of the room was broken by a soft mewling cry and the sheet was weighted down.

"Thank the old gods," Robb said hoarsely.

Sansa let out a little sob of relief and Melara released the breath she didn't know she had been holding.

Bringing the bundle close to her face she could see the soft tufts of dark hair, the red skin and perhaps most importantly…the grey eyes.

She turned to Robb, feeling her eyes beginning to smart. "He's a Stark."

"It's a boy?" Catelyn asked weakly.

"Yes my lady," Melara said swallowing hard and fighting to keep control of her raging emotions. "You have another son."

"Let me see him," the lady said weakly and Melara passed the babe over, taking note of the umbilical cord and noting that it would need to be cut.

"Oh," Catelyn breathed as she settled the bundle down in her arms. "Oh he looks like his father. I wish Ned were here to see him, he'd be so proud."

Her voice sounded quite weak then and Melara frowned at her in concern. "My lady, perhaps you should let one of your children take the babe for now. You need to rest."

"No," Catelyn murmured. "There are things I need to say, I don't think I have a lot of time."

"What are you talking about Mother?" Sansa asked fearfully. "You're not going to die."

"Sweetling," Catelyn said reaching out a hand and pressing it to the side of her daughter's face. "I am grateful beyond words that you were returned to us, that I got to see you both before all of this happened."

She smiled at Arya and then turned to Robb. "Will you take your brother my son?"

Almost as if he were in a state of shock, Robb slowly reached out and took the mewling bundle, staring down at it as if he were afraid he would drop it.

"He's going to look to you as he grows," Catelyn said softly and Melara had to strain to hear her. "Make sure you're there for him."

She realized with a jolt that Catelyn was still bleeding steadily and she thought wildly about how to slow it down. She ran through a list of spells in her mind, none of which would work on blood loss. The only potion that might work she didn't have the ingredients for and there wasn't the time to brew it anyway.

They were out of time, she realized with a sickening jolt.

"Stop talking like that mother!" Arya demanded. "Nothing's going to happen. We're all together again, nothing's going to change."

Catelyn's breath slowed and Melara felt her heart rate spike.

"Arya, it's time for you to fight for this family. You're so good at fighting, promise me you'll keep doing that little wolf."

Arya scrubbed at her eyes but didn't reply.

"Sansa, you are so good at being a mother, and you're going to be a wonderful one someday. Promise me you'll take care of your brothers."

Sansa's only response was another sob that she tried to hide.

Finally Catelyn turned to Robb, her voice was now so quiet that Melara could barely hear her. "My son, me eldest, my firstborn. You have become a man that your father would have been so proud to see. You have led with integrity and honor in everything you have done. You are the king that this realm needs.

Promise me that you will not stop fighting for what is right."

Finally, she turned to Melara and held out one of her hands. By this point, the brunette had turned away, thinking this to be a private moment between family members that she shouldn't have been a part of.

"And to my new daughter," she said and Melara jerked as if she had been slapped. "Your strength is something I envy. Take care of Robb, he's going to need you. Thank you for all you've done."

The brunette tried to formulate words in response to this incredibly bitter sweet admission but found that her tongue was failing her.

"Is there anything we can do?" Sansa asked turning to her. Her eyes were full of tears and the words came out broken.

Hot stinging tears spilled down Melara's cheeks like rain. "Not for this much blood. There's no spell that can fix it. I don't have that kind of power."

Sansa let out another sob but nodded and the brunette then felt the press of another body next to her and found out with some surprise that it was Arya.

She didn't know the girl very well but she was clearly searching for some form of comfort as she lost another important person.

They continued sitting there for what might have been minutes although it seemed like hours. Gradually Catelyn's breathing slowed until they couldn't even hear it anymore.

And finally, when they couldn't hear it at all anymore and her grip on their hands slackened altogether, the only sound that could then be heard was the soft mewling cries of the babe and the Stark siblings…sharing in their grief.

For Catelyn Stark, formerly of House Tully….was dead.

Ω

 **So...I could have added more to this chapter...but honestly I didn't want to. This was an exhausting chapter to write and there was so much death in it that I burnt myself out a bit emotionally. I didn't want to take away from every aspect of the Red Wedding so Catelyn still died but in place of Robb, Ollie and Roslin died instead. That was a hard passage to write, particularly because I've been having a rough couple of weeks prior to releasing this. And I think I was just mad writing this chapter that I poured everything I had into it and now I'm just kind of drained. I realize there are more questions, where's Grey Wind or Theon for example and I promise those will be answered in the next one. However I wanted to get this out there because it was so difficult to write. I'm not sure if you'll be able to enjoy it given the content, but don't forget to review and I'll see you next time.**


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Melara wasn't sure how long they all stayed in that room, each of them locked in their silent grief. Sansa was quietly weeping over the still form of her mother.

Robb was standing over by the window, staring out of it with unseeing hard blue eyes. The brunette didn't know if he was weeping but his shoulders were not shaking which betrayed that his grief had given way to an emotion she knew all too well…anger. Hard, cold anger.

Arya however, she was holding the babe and rocking back and forth as she sang to it. Miraculously its cries had ceased, rendering the room utterly silent save for her voice. It was a song that Melara was unfamiliar with but it must have been a familiar one to the three Starks because when the girl reached a certain passage, her voice caught a little and both the shoulders of Sansa and Robb stiffened.

Melara swallowed hard and looked down at the still form of Lady Catelyn on the bed. Her eyes had been closed and a sheet had been placed over her head to lend some form of respect to the mother of the King in the North.

 _We need to bury her,_ she thought bitterly to herself. _We need to get the body out of here. It can't be good for Sansa to look at it for too long._

Then she glanced down at the babe and felt herself soften a little. Arya was still singing to him but her voice had faded somewhat as the song was ending.

"He's going to be hungry soon," she said in a dull hollow voice. "We need to find a nurse for him."

Robb started as if what she said had broken into his consciousness. "Aye," he said in a darkly grim tone. "There is much that needs to be done."

Those words seemed to shake him out of whatever haze of grief and rage had taken hold and he did not still his movements again.

He turned away from the window then and strode for the door with purpose in his steps, purpose that made Melara think he was trying to hold back every ounce of emotion and using his anger as the vice like grip that was doing so.

As he walked, he drew his sword and then flung the door open. Melara hurriedly got to her feet and glanced at Arya before striding over to the open doorway.

"What are you going to do?" she asked her husband.

"First," he said in a grim voice, staring down the hallway as if he were daring a horde to charge down it and face him. "I need to speak to the army. I need to know which men still live and then we need to account for the dead. I need to see which men Lannister has brutally murdered."

He all but spat the name out and Melara felt a searing race through her blood at the mention of the Old Lion.

He was the one, he was the one who had murdered Ollie and Roslin. Her half brothers might have been monsters but none of them would rape their own sister.

The gods alone knew how many men Lannister had sent to do his dirty work and any godless heathens he had sent would no doubt have no more manners than that of a pig in mud.

It mattered not though, she would find them. She would find them all and then torture each one as slowly as she possibly could for as long as she possibly could until they begged for mercy from the Seven.

But they would find none.

All of a sudden the sound of footsteps in the hall caused the couple to whirl around and Melara gripped the knives she had seized from the floor when she followed her husband out of the room.

Coming down the hall towards them were her three brothers and the brunette breathed a sigh of relief.

"What news?" Robb barked. "Does our army still stand? And what of my Uncle Edmure Tully?"

"He had been found locked in combat with one of Lannister's lackeys," Wyn said through his teeth as they strode up to her and Robb. "The maester is attending to him now."

"And the rest of my men?"

"In the courtyard your grace," Ben answered. "Many of the riverlords are still there. Some had returned to their holdfasts once peace had been declared but should you call for them to return…they will come."

"Good," Robb all but snarled. "We're going to have need of them. And what of the northern army?"

Wyn ran a hand through his hair and looked grim. "The news there is somewhat more dire your grace. Many were killed in the fighting. It seems the actions of the late Lord Bolton were more than premeditated, they were long reaching and effective."

"Aye," Robb said grimly running a hand through his hair. "Aye, the bastard did have a way with his plans and schemes that would have made him perfect for the designs of Tywin Lannister. Gods damn him."

"What of our father?" Melara asked suddenly. "Has he been…dealt with?"

"At the moment he has been placed in a holding cell in Riverrun with a decision regarding his fate pending," Ben said grimly. "I placed him there myself."

"Good," Robb said again. "At the moment, preparations need to be made to bury the dead and clean this keep of the stench of Lannister betrayal. How many of House Frey are still alive?"

All three of her brothers and Melara bristled. The news of their father's grievous oath breaking had been news to them but in the fighting it had become plain that it was not news to others. How many knew of this kin slaying they did not know but Walder Frey had shown himself off for a complete and utter fool in reaching for a crown that was far, _far_ above his head.

"We have not taken a complete inventory your grace," Ben said through gritted teeth. "With your permission we will do so and get to the root of this treason. It is my thinking that we will need to act under the assumption that…many were involved and had foresight."

Robb's nostrils flared for a moment before he nodded choppily. His blue eyes were almost black with rage and Melara knew she bore a similar expression.

"Wyn if you could see to the members of our…family that still live," she asked. "We need to know how many knew and how much. I will now go down to the great hall and purge that place of the ruin it has become. Then and only then will we bring the members of Father's House into it and judge them with the justice of the King."

Her words rang with formality and Wyn nodded grimly. "And what of the Lannisters your grace? They cannot be allowed to escape."

"Nay," Robb said. "They cannot. But we need to plan our attack most carefully. Tywin and Jaime Lannister need to be brought to justice in the most public and humiliating way possible before their heads are paraded about Westeros. That is a matter that we will discuss when the most immediate concerns have been met."

All of a sudden their grim conversation was interrupted by a mewling cry coming from the late Lady Catelyn's chambers.

Five sets of eyes looked up to see Sansa Stark standing on the threshold with the babe in her arms.

"Gods be good," Ben breathed. "Is that – "

"My younger brother," Robb said tersely. "Born only a short time ago."

"And…And Lady Catelyn?" Will asked hoarsely.

"Dead," Robb said in a voice that was exactly like the word he had just uttered.

Wyn cursed and ran a hand through his hair again. "Damn the Lannisters, damn the Boltons, damn Father. Damn them all!"

"Robb?" Sansa interrupted them, her voice sounding faint. "I think he's hungry. He's moving around like he has an appetite."

Will muttered a curse under his breath. "Most of the servants have been killed your grace. If you will allow me to ride to the nearest town to bring back a wet nurse for the prince."

Robb's fists clenched and unclenched for a moment and his jaw worked as the physical manifestations were his way of displaying that he was thinking.

"Very well," he said finally. "Do be careful. I believe that the last of the Lannister threat has passed but we cannot be certain until all of Riverrun has been thoroughly searched."

All of a sudden there was a roar from down the hall and the small company whirled around, all drawing their blades in the process.

Hurrying towards them with a grim faced woman at his side was an enormous man in full armor. Melara recognized him right away as Lord Umber, one of Robb's fiercest warriors and bannermen.

She had seen him briefly at the wedding but he had not been in the maze of bodies in the aftermath leading her now to wonder where in the name of the gods he had been.

The tall man skidded to a halt in front of Robb and immediately went to one knee, his drawn sword placed in front of him. "Your grace, thank the gods you are well. We failed you."

"Rise Lord Umber," Robb said grimly. "Apart from a few scratches and bruises I am whole. The treachery of the Lannisters has not been fulfilled yet my army is scattered. How did you and Dacey manage to avoid the blades?"

"I was fortunate your grace," the large man rumbled as he got back to his feet. "I had received a raven prior to the feast beginning that I needed to see to from my maester in the Last Hearth. There were a few details to oversee before my return to the north and I had left to answer the raven. I had no sooner sent it out when I heard the screams from below. I left immediately to go back down to the Great Hall but was immediately set upon by men in plainclothes."

"And you Dacey?" Robb asked turning to the stone faced woman whose sword was caked with slowly drying blood.

"I had gone out to see to the horses your grace," Dacey said through gritted teeth. "Something was happening to make them rather skittish. It is fortunate that one of the beasts saw the man coming otherwise I might have ended up as one of the poor bastards in here."

"Cerwyn is dead," Umber rumbled. "I saw him slain in the hallway. However Dacey and I ran into Lord Manderly in the hall. He is wounded but not severely so. Who was it? Who was the traitor who let them in?"

"That would belong to a very much dead and unlamented Roose Bolton," Melara said through her teeth. "He conspired with the Lannisters and my soon to be very dead father in a bid for power far, _far_ above their heads."

Umber and Mormont stared at her for a second, a myriad of expressions crossing their faces before the former muttered several rather choice and creative curses under his breath. "The bastard! What was his price your grace?"

"The north," Robb replied through clenched teeth. "He was to receive Winterfell and all territories between the Wall and the Neck and then my faithless goodfather was to receive the Trident and all _that_ entailed. Needless to say, my queen and I dispatched the both of them in a manner befitting their…treachery."

His hand tightened around Melara's and she silently released a breath, glad for the show of support and comfort.

Dacey Mormont peered curiously at her. "You killed Bolton then?"

Melara nodded sharply. "I did. His head will be mounted on a spike before nightfall for the crows to feast on."

The GreatJon grunted in approval. "Good. And what of Frey?"

Wyn cleared his throat then and stepped in. "He has been incapacitated in a cell for the time being until such a time as the King can dispense justice. He will be a problem no longer."

"Aye," Robb said. "But that still leaves the matter of ensuring that the title of Lord Frey passes to a man who is not as faithless or as treacherous and we do not know how many of House Frey were involved in this Lannister plot. Present company excluded of course."

He cast a rather pointed look at Mormont and Umber as if to impart to them without words that Melara and her brothers had nothing to do with this and he would hear no word against them. It was well spoken for some of the tension that had been crackling around the group like lightening seemed to fizzle out and disappear.

Wyn looked somewhat deflated of course and Melara noted the haggard expression he bore. His eyes looked hollow and haunted and she swallowed hard remembering the scene in the hallway below them. He too was fighting back the grief that was threatening to crash over him like a wave.

Ben and Will didn't look much better though. The former's jaw was clenched so tight, one slight touch of pressure might cause it to crack whilst the latter bore an expression of a man on fire. His face was ashy grey and cords were standing out in his neck in an effort to keep himself in check.

Robb, who had been thinking for a moment, nodded to himself as if he had decided something and then turned to her eldest brother.

"Right then. In light of what has happened thus far, I do not know who I can fully trust outside of this present company which is something I need now more than ever. House Frey is entirely scattered and many are dead in the hall below us. With that in mind, Perwyn, you are now Lord Frey in all that that role entails."

If Wyn had been expecting such a commission, his face certainly didn't display it. "Me, your grace? But I – "

"Are one of the last few Freys that I trust absolutely," Robb said briskly. "You fought against your kin for my life and the lives of the rest of my men. You knew nothing of old Walder's treachery and have performed all tasks I have asked of you. There is no one I trust for the position of the Lord of the Crossing than you."

Wyn looked utterly bewildered and Melara couldn't deny that she felt such a way as well. Another part of her however was feeling a fierce pride. Her eldest brother was more than capable of this honor and deserved far more than any of the rest of her faithless family. He would mold the Twins into something to be proud of.

"Your grace," Wyn began again. "I am merely one of a host of sons who – "

Robb clearly wasn't inclined to let him finish his denunciation of himself. "You are also the only son who has led with integrity and honor. You are Lord Frey. I will hear no more word of it."

He turned back to the GreatJon and Dacey Mormont then. "Search the castle, whatever of my men you find that can still stand, send to them to the steps of the Great Hall, I need to speak with them all."

Mormont and Umber nodded and then hurried off back down the hall. Robb waited until they were out of sight before turning back to her brothers. "See to it that the castle is cleared and search the bodies for any that still live. I did not see my uncle Ser Brynden among the bodies. Find him."

"Yes your grace," Wyn and Ben said in quick succession and then all three of her brothers hurried off, Will no doubt going to find a horse and head for the nearest town where he would find a wet nurse for the new prince.

Sansa who had been watching the proceedings silently whilst juggling her new little brother in her arms turned and walked back into the room.

Robb watched her for a moment and then turned back to Melara and took both of her hands in his. There was a burning look in his eyes as he gazed at her that was equal parts anger and deep grief.

She knew there was a similar expression on her own face. The desire to fall apart right there was almost overwhelming and yet she swallowed hard the burning agony that had taken over her heart to the point of not being able to feel anything.

Nothing was said but the point of staring at each other so hard stemmed from the desperate desire for reassurance. Surrounded by death and destruction, husband and wife somehow knew deep within themselves that dependence upon each other would be key to seeing them through.

"I want his head," Melara whispered through clenched teeth.

Robb blinked as if surprised. "Whose head?"

"Tywin Lannister's," the brunette ground out. "I want his head and I want to send it to his inbred grandson and idiot daughter in King's Landing on a platter. I want to preserve it with magic and then place it in a box and have a messenger deliver it to the "king" personally. I want him to open it and then piss himself in terror. I want him to know that Winter is Coming for him. It's coming for them all."

Robb's eyes darkened with some unknown emotion. He must have thought her words betrayed an uncommon fragility because he reached out then and pulled her close.

She all but melted into his arms but managed to hold herself together at the very last second. She could only afford herself the luxury of comfort for so long before the world called.

All the death around Melara didn't negate the fact that she was a queen and would have duties accordingly. Her own grief was not a reason for her to fall into it and not come out.

At least not yet.

"I want both of their heads," Robb whispered into her hair and Melara blinked. "I want the head of the Old Lion and the head of the Golden Lion as well. I intend to shorten him them permanently. We will send both…to King's Landing. This will be the beginning of the destruction of House Lannister."

Melara exhaled and buried her face in Robb's shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent and thanking every god she didn't believe in that he was still alive.

His near brush with death had scared the living daylights out of her and she found she was reluctant to let him out of her sight after this.

"We need to go after them," she whispered back. "We can't let them get too far. Lannister will be convinced of his success when he lays his head to pillow tonight. We need to ensure that this will be the last night of peace that he ever has."

Robb pulled back from her then and there was a deadly glint in his eye. "As you wish my queen."

Melara tried for a grim smile but she was certain it was more like a baring of her teeth the way a wild animal did when it was cornered. "Then let us clean up this castle, set the Riverlands to rights and then let the rest of the realm know that we are coming. There will be a reckoning. There will be blood. We will have our revenge…no matter if we have to swim through it."

"Robb!"

The couple looked up again at the second unexpected interruption but this time, the relief on Robb's face when he saw the pair hurrying towards them was palpable. "Uncle Edmure! Great Uncle Brynden! Thank the gods!"

The lord of Riverrun and the Blackfish were striding towards the both of them with more purpose than Melara had ever seen. Robb's great uncle was brandishing a naked sword that was caked with dried blood. There was a nasty looking scratch on his face and he was walking with a limp. As for the Lord of Riverrun himself, there was a slash against the skin of his neck that looked freshly stitched and there was a large bandage wrapped around his torso.

The pair came to a halt in front of the king and queen and looked them over carefully. Melara didn't even want to imagine what sort of sight she presented in her once beautiful wedding dress that was spattered with blood, half slipping off her shoulder.

Brynden looked as if he were about to explode with rage but was keeping a tight handle on his emotions. Edmure simply looked tired and a little bit haunted.

"Hell of a mess," the Blackfish muttered through gritted teeth as he looked up and down the hall. "Thank the Seven the two of you came through alright."

"I can't say the same for everyone," Robb muttered under his breath and if possible, both Edmure and Brynden looked even grimmer. "How did the two of you manage to escape the fray?"

"I had received a raven from Vyman," Edmure explained glancing at his uncle before looking back at his nephew. "I had gone to see to it and was in the process of reading it when there came the sound of shouting from outside of the door. I told Vyman to bar it and drew my sword. When it became obvious that the hallway was clear, I left the room and made my way towards the Great Hall."

"I wonder how I didn't see you in the fighting," Robb muttered to himself.

"Because he didn't make it there," the Blackfish ground out, taking up the tale. "I met Edmure on the second landing where we had to fight our way through a contingent of bastards wearing plainclothes. We managed to make our way down to the first floor where we were again set upon. By the time we reached the Great Hall, it was littered with bodies and there was no one in sight. What we did find was a very dead Roose Bolton."

Melara released what must have been a primal snarl for Edmure looked at her with something akin to alarm.

"Roose Bolton attempted to commit treachery against his king," she said through her teeth and Edmure's face went grey. "He conspired with the Lannisters to assassinate Robb and was promised the north as fulfillment of this wretched promise."

The Blackfish muttered something under his breath that sounded very impolite and Edmure now bore a horrified look. "But Lannister wouldn't – "

"Wouldn't he?" Robb asked with a sneer on his face. "He's been embarrassed in front of the entire realm by the Ironborn and myself for the reeving of Lannisport and the capture of his thrice damned son. He must have decided it was time to regain some of his standing before the mockery grows. This was his chance."

The cursing of the Blackfish was not as creative as Umber's but it was no less intentional.

Edmure looked toward the chamber next to them and froze his face growing pale. Melara cringed, realizing he had a perfect view of the sheet covered form on the bed and the two girls in the room.

"Robb?" he said in a quiet voice. "Who is that?"

The King in the North closed his eyes briefly and seemed to gather himself. And he told them. He told them about Melara getting his mother and sisters out of the great hall and how shortly after she had sealed the door and left them in safety, her water had broken resulting in labour pains. He told them how he and

Melara had managed to get to them in time to deliver the baby safely but that Catelyn had died soon after.

The whole time her husband was relaying the events of the last hour to his uncle and great Uncle, Edmure Tully's face was becoming greyer and greyer to the point where the color almost resembled the shoreline of a beach on a very cloudy day.

"May I see the babe?" he asked finally when Robb had finished and all the king could do was nod choppily.

Edmure and Brynden strode into the room and upon seeing them, Arya leapt up and ran to her great uncle who immediately enveloped her in his arms.

Edmure quietly went to Sansa who tried to give him a watery smile and almost managed it before it collapsed.

She held out the baby towards him who had somehow stopped fussing and was looking around the room at everything.

"Gods but he looks like Ned," the lord of Riverrun breathed. "Same hair, same face, same Stark eyes."

"Aye," the Blackfish rumbled as he stepped over to the look at the child. "How appropriate is it that Ned's last son would look just like him?"

No one had an answer for that and Melara swallowed hard before glancing at her husband. He was still standing out in the hallway, fists clenching and unclenching as he stared down the corridor. His eyes were unseeing and she knew he was thinking hard about what to do.

How he responded to this was critical. It was the biggest crisis to strike his reign thus far and what followed would determine what sort of king and ruler he was.

She glanced at the party who was still gathered around Sansa and the baby and speaking in hushed tones and then strode out of the room and up to Robb.

"What are your orders your grace?"

Robb blinked and then looked at her as if suddenly realizing she was there. "Orders? Melara you are my queen, my wife no less. I do not give you orders."

"Orders are your first act," the brunette insisted. "You are the king and when the battle is over, commands are what need to be given. What do you want to do?"

"The queen is right," said a low intent voice from behind them and both turned to find the Blackfish standing there looking as implacable as the mountains in the Vale. "Nephew, the people of the north and the Riverlands will be looking to you for leadership. The Lannisters have tried to strike a grievous blow against this family. "They need to know that they failed."

"Aye," Robb said slowly almost as if he were coming up with an idea. "But they cannot know yet. We need to search the castle to see if there are any Lannister men still left alive and we need to get one of them to talk. We need to know where the Lannisters have gone and how far away they are. We have lions to hunt."

Melara may have smiled then but it must have looked more like a baring of her teeth. "Leave that to me. I know exactly how to get them to talk."

Robb gave her a severe look and she knew he was thinking about the aggressive spell she had used earlier to get both Bolton and her father to loosen their tongues.

Right now she had enough hate to utter a million _crucios._

Robb obviously knew that but the Blackfish didn't for he looked confused. "How are you going to do that your grace?"

"How else?" Melara asked, her eyes locked on Robb with grievous intent. "I'm going to get violent."

Ω

It took a few hours before everything was put to rights in Riverrun. Melara assisted in the cleanup while her husband gathered the army and spent the next few hours giving orders to the various lords who had survived.

When they learned of the treachery that had very nearly destroyed their new kingdom, the king had to spend a good deal of time talking so as not to get them to ride out in a righteous rage.

The bodies of those closest to them were taken away for burial, their forms covered and their eyes closed. Among those bodies was Theon Greyjoy, one of

Robb's close friends. He had been struck with an arrow in his leg before someone had gotten to him with a sword.

Robb's eyes had turned black with hate when he had been informed of the news.

Grey Wind was still no where to be found which was alarming and concerning to Melara. A wolf the size of that monstrous beast would have been easily spotted in the castle leading her to believe that he had either run off or he was dead.

She mentioned neither possibility to Robb however. He had enough on his plate.

And speaking of egregious emotional difficulty, she was slowly beginning to feel the icy wall she had constructed around herself after Catelyn's death starting to melt.

There had been too much to do, too much to say in the aftermath of the battle, the Red Wedding she heard some of the men calling it. They needed to account for who had died and who had survived and then gather them, those that were able to still stand that was.

The wounded needed to be tended to and the prisoners needed to be gathered and an address needed to be given.

As soon as she had left Robb, Melara hurried down the stairs into the lower hallway and to the small group of men she had felled while she was running back to the Great Hall.

Sure enough, the one she had stunned and immobilized was still lying next to one of the statues of the Tully ancestors. She hauled him up and then summoned some rope which she used to lash him to the statue.

 _I'll be back for you later._

Later had come sooner than she had expected and now she found herself marching back down the hallway with Robb, his uncle and the Blackfish.

It was getting on into the late hours of the night and there was a part of Melara that wanted nothing more than to fall into a bed for a few hours and forget all of the horrors she had witnessed. All of the bodies and the blood reminded her of her time at Hogwarts and that battle where she had lost her best friend.

And now she had lost her brother and her sister as well.

Her throat constricted as she thought of that awful scene that was now forever burned into her memory. She might have been able to help them if she had been close. She had made a promise to Roslin and had failed her younger sister utterly.

Ollie…Ollie had had big dreams. He had wanted to do something with his life after the war, travel, marry, have a holdfast somewhere.

Now he never would.

She thought of that last conversation they had had on the riverbank not long before her wedding and all that he had said and she had said.

None of that would ever matter anymore. Those words were all lost and cold like the river had been that night.

Up until Robb there had only been five people in this world that she knew she could count on, knew she could trust…and now there were three.

Will had indeed returned with a wet nurse for the new Stark prince and Melara Arya and Sansa had personally overseen her with the baby.

The woman had seemed intimidated but Melara's last words to her before sweeping out had made her even more terrified.

 _"If this child cries…or suffers discomfort for any reason, it will mean your head. I will gut you with the bluntest spoon in this castle. Do you understand?"  
_

 _The woman's face had whitened in terror and she had nodded so hard that for a moment Melara had thought her head was going to fall off of her shoulders.  
_

 _She had then swept out of the room leaving her brother Ben to stand guard._

So far no servants had come running to tell either her or Robb of any sort of trouble which gave the brunette reason for calm.

She and the King had spent the last few hours running themselves ragged trying to put things to rights.

And now, in the wee hours of the morning they were about to receive the last piece of the puzzle that they needed.

"This is him then?" Robb asked as they stopped in front of the statue where Melara had bound her prisoner. He was still stunned and lashed to the effigy, leaning against it with his head bobbing forward as if he were asleep where he was standing.

"He doesn't look like much," Edmure said cocking his head to one side and the Blackfish grunted in agreement.

"Well if there is anything we have learned today it is that sometimes a little is enough," Robb said tersely. He turned to Melara. "Can you wake him?"

Edmure and Brynden Tully exchanged confused glances but Melara barely looked at them. The time for hiding her magic had long since passed. If she needed to use it to strike terror into the hearts of men, especially after this day…so be it.

 _"Revelio,"_ she hissed and there was a second's pause before the man lashed to the statue jerked upright like a marionette on strings.

There were a few startled oaths behind her but Robb didn't even blink.

As soon as it became obvious to the prisoner that he couldn't move, he looked about with wild eyes before his gaze landed on the group in front of him and he paled.

He opened his mouth but Robb spoke first and when he did it was in the voice of a man who was barely restraining his rage and blood lust.

"I don't know who you are," he began. "And I don't care. You were bought and paid for by Tywin Lannister…yes or no?"

The man opened his mouth but no sound emitted other that a strangled choking noise. He seemed to realize how bad the situation he was in was but couldn't bring himself to address it.

"Answer the question," Melara said in a cold voice. "Or you won't like the sound that comes out of your mouth next."

The man stared at her for a moment with completely blank eyes and the brunette decided she was done being patient.

She tightened her hand into a fist and let the curse rip from her lips with savage intensity. The results were instantaneous and a bloodcurdling scream filled the hallway as the prisoner bore down under the full weight of the Cruciatus Curse.

Melara didn't even turn around when she heard the shouted exclamations of surprise from the men behind her.

Likely they would be wary of her after but as far as she was concerned, that was a good thing. All men should be wary of her after this day.

After a moment she released the curse and the man sagged against the ropes, limp as a boned fish. His breath was coming in gasps and there was a foul smell in the air that made Melara think it wasn't just his muscles that he had lost control of.

"What," he gasped looking up at her, his eyes wide with utter terror. "What are you?"

Melara uttered a brittle laugh. "The questions will either come from myself or the king. Now you were bought and paid for by Tywin Lannister, yes or no?"

The man nodded choppily at her, obviously deciding that making her mad was something he wanted to avoid lest he feel that pain again. "We…We were told when the plan was fulfilled to exit Riverrun and make haste to Harrenhal where we would receive our recompenses."

"Where is Tywin Lannister now?" Robb demanded and the man looked back and forth between her and her husband and swallowed hard. "Has he made for the capital or has he returned to Harrenhal?"

"I don't know," the man squeaked in terror.

"I can't imagine why he would go back to Harrenhal," Melara muttered as she stared down at the whimpering mass of man in front of her. His brand of pathetic was a special one and she was beginning to get annoyed. "If I were him I would want to garrison my forces inside of the capital immediately. They've been stretched thin for too long and if his plans went off without a hitch, he would want to secure the rest of the country as soon as possible. They are likely making for the capital."

"Aye that is a sound assessment," the Blackfish rumbled. He sounded somewhat uncertain and when Melara looked back at him, she could see him watching her carefully. Edmure's eyes had grown wide and he was looking back and forth between her and Robb as if he wished to assess her husband's knowledge.

"Then he is likely on the road somewhere," Robb ground out between his teeth. "We need to catch him before he reaches safety."

"Your grace," Edmure said somewhat tentatively. "We should perhaps send out a fast rider to determine the whereabouts of the Lannisters."

Robb pursed his lips and then his eyes met Melara's. He seemed indecisive for a moment before he nodded slowly. "Perhaps that would be wise. They can't have gotten far. The Kingsroad is likely their path. Peace has been declared in the eyes of the realm so they would have no reason to hide. They should be easy to spot."

Melara nodded sharply. "Then our course of action is clear. I will go after them."

"No!" Robb snapped at the same time the Blackfish and Edmure Tully exclaimed, "What?!"

Melara opened her mouth to forestall the argument that she knew was coming when the prisoner behind her decided he was really going to let his tongue get away from him.

"You?" he all but managed to guffaw. "What can you do?"

The temperature in the hallway suddenly seemed to drop below the freezing point and everyone ceased their conversation immediately as if sensing disaster was about to strike.

Melara turned back to the prisoner who seemed to have realized then that he had made a fatal mistake.

She tightened her fist again and this time the scream that was released was beyond bone chilling. It was one of such terror and unutterable pain that stories would no doubt have been told of it for years to come.

Robb himself was thankful that he had decreed no one to be let into this specific hallway while he and Melara were conducting this investigation. He knew the full force of her magic was about to be put on display for those who had no clue what she was capable of.

He also knew however that the time for hiding had long since passed its advantage. His wife had a unique gift that she had no trouble making full use of.

In the back of his mind a small voice asked him if his father would have approved of such violent methods.

But then he remembered the unseeing dead eyes of his best friend, the lifeless form of his mother, dead before she could truly see peace and the horrible mangled forms of Melara's brother and sister and he determined that if his father had known of the bloodshed that was to come he would have seen that there was no course of action other than the one that lay before them.

Melara had been right. His father had been an honorable man but he had been lax in his judgement of certain people and it had cost him his life.

Robb didn't intend to make the same mistakes.

Watching as Melara laid the full effects of that horrifying curse upon the prisoner whose screams had faded to a gurgle as he was now choking on his own blood, he knew that his wife didn't intend to either.

The two of them needed to be ruthless if they were going to get revenge. The time for being honorable had passed.

Blood had been spilled and it demanded retribution. Lannister had been given free reign for far too long and it was time the lions knew their place.

He intended to extinguish that entire wretched house.

Finally, Melara released the curse and the man collapsed, the ropes being the only thing holding him upright. He was twitching slightly as if he had no control over his body anymore and she wondered briefly if this had been the reaction of Longbottom's parents after the same curse had driven them to insanity.

She turned back to her husband and stared him in the eyes. "I am your best chance. They will never see me coming."

"What…What are you?"

This question came from Ser Edmure who looked equal parts terrified and fascinated as he stared at the trembling prisoner.

"Isn't it obvious Lord Edmure?" the brunette asked. "I am a witch. No I am not one of those ridiculous followers of the Red god who was seen in the company of Stannis Baratheon. I am my own person and I use my magic for my own purposes. I was born with it and have spent my entire life practicing it. I have kept it hidden for over a decade to all but a few. To answer the question that is no doubt coming, yes the king knows as you can see from his unchanged expression."

"I have known of my wife's abilities for a while now Uncle Edmure," Robb said briskly. He was pacing slowly back and forth, either trying to remain calm or come up with a plan to counter the one she had suggested. It was likely a bit of both. "We first met at Oxcross when she came to visit her brothers who also are privy to this information."

Brynden Tully seemed to be looking at her with the same expression one gives a cornered wild animal, with wariness and perhaps a hint of respect. "What is it you can do your grace?"

Melara gave the older man a grim smile. "I can do anything I want Ser. Magic is a wonderful tool. I can go anywhere in the country with the snap of my fingers, I can summon any item you can possibly imagine, I can conjure fire and water and kill a man any way I please. The only things I cannot do are turn back time and raise the dead, things I sorely wish I could."

"And you knew of this Robb?" Edmure asked.

"I did," the king said grimly. "My queen performed many great services for this house before she ever held that title, services such as tending to me while I was wounded, caring for my mother, breaking my sister out of her prison in the capital and helping to deliver my younger brother."

There was a stunned silence from Tully and the Blackfish but Melara paid them no attention. All of those accomplishments listed had been made for strategic purposes though she knew her brothers would argue otherwise.

"Truly?" the Blackfish asked in a hushed voice and she regarded the man carefully. Brynden Tully seemed to be the sort of individual who was as simple as the earth itself. He believed in the work of his hands and was a great warrior.

"Truly," Robb said. "Marrying Melara has been a boon in many ways, none the least of which is all that she has done for my family. Revenge will be possible because she is by my side."

The look he sent her after that statement was unfathomable but she forced herself to look away. Under that gaze she would crumble and she couldn't afford to do that right now.

Comfort would come soon but it was not yet.

"Praise the Seven," Edmure muttered looking at Melara with something akin to wonder. "They have favored us this day. I am not the most devout follower but if all of this is true than even the most stout hearted non believer must claim divine intervention."

Melara snorted. "I'm not sure I quite agree Ser Edmure. It's simply a matter of timing. Perhaps one of the only good things my bastard of a father ever did was arrange this marriage."

"And then promptly tried to break it for a bigger crown," Brynden Tully growled.

"Aye," Robb said grimly. "But he didn't succeed. He has struck a blow but he has failed nonetheless and with this act he has sealed his own doom."

He turned back to the quivering prisoner in front of them. "I don't think we're going to get anymore out of him. He isn't a high ranking officer, just a worm who jumped at the thought of Lannister gold and the chance to spill some blood. If you would my wife?"

"Gladly," Melara snarled before she slashed her hand through the air, the aggressive cutting curse leaving her lips like it had ripped through her teeth.

There was a moment of silence followed by several well placed curses when the head of the man that Melara had just severed wobbled grotesquely before falling to the floor and rolling across it a few paces before coming to a stop.

Brynden swore violently and Edmure paled.

Robb however didn't even blink. "His head will be placed on a spike on the front gate with all the other traitors."

"We may have to burn some of the bodies before this night is out," Melara said grimly.

"Aye," her husband said. "And the plume of smoke will hopefully reach a mile high. There may be stories told about this night."

"Good," Melara said. "I hope that they say this is the night when the downfall of the Lannisters began. And that a young wolf snuck up on the sleeping lions and tore out their throats with his claws."

"I believe that is something I will drink to," the Blackfish said grimly looking down at the body with distaste. "Shall I send for someone to take away the body your grace? This filth has tainted my home long enough."

"Please," Robb said sounding somewhat distracted.

As soon as the body was taken away under the direction of Ser Brynden, Edmure turned to Robb. "Your grace may I go and see to the body of my sister? She was born a Tully and died a widow. It is only fitting that she be honored in the Tully fashion."

If it was possible, Robb's face tightened even further with unreleased emotion and Melara could see his jaw working as he tried to come up with a response.

"Please," he said tightly. "That would save me some time and I do not think I am up to such a task at this moment. Thank you Uncle Edmure."

The lord of Riverrun bowed deeply to the both of them and then strode off down the hall leaving the new king and queen alone.

Melara looked pointedly at her husband until he looked at her, sighed and lowered his eyes. "I know what you want."

"Tywin Lannister would never suspect me," the brunette insisted. "He does not know what I can do and before he ever realizes the fatal mistake he has made, both he and his bastard of a son will be in the dungeons of Riverrun awaiting a trial. I am the best chance to capture them and take them out of their camp without anyone noticing."

Still Robb said nothing. After a moment of silence Melara began to feel her frustration boiling over. "Well?"

All of a sudden they were interrupted by the sound of running footsteps and the couple looked up to see a man in Stark livery fast approaching. He skidded to a stop in front of them and then braced himself as if trying to catch his breath. "Your graces! A hidden passage has been discovered in the dungeons! Lord Umber thinks it is the way that the traitors gained access to Riverrun!"

Robb's eyes brightened slightly and he nodded. "Good man! Has it been searched?"

"Not yet your grace," the man said breathlessly. "I was told to come and inform you immediately."

"Excellent," the king replied before tuning back to his wife. "I promise we'll discuss this soon. In the meantime, would you please check on my sisters and brother? I don't want to leave them alone for too long."

His eyes pleaded with her, asking her not to argue as now was not the time and while everything in her wanted to do so, the brunette decided that at an argument at this time would benefit no one. They were both dead on their feet and the night showed no signs of ending.

So instead, she nodded tersely and strode off down the hall, blades in hand, taking a deep breath as she went.

Arguments weren't really going to help anyone at the moment and she had been thinking about Sansa, Arya and the babe herself.

Melara took the stairs two at a time and hurried down the hall towards her goodsister's chambers. After the death of her mother, the red head had not wanted to be anywhere near the room and Melara couldn't blame her. If it were possible she would raze that entire room had she been in Sansa's position.

Arya too had been quiet when she had left them and the brunette wondered how all of this was affecting the little girl. She had been on the run from the capital for months and had seen both of her parents die in front of her.

The mental effects of such horrific circumstances were sure to be severe. She couldn't be allowed to bottle all of it up. She'd have to make a note to get Robb to talk to his sister.

As she strode towards the room, she caught sight of Ben standing outside the door. He had his sword drawn with the point of it pressing into the floor at his feet. His face was as implacable as the northern mountains and his stance was tension filled, coiled like a whip.

The sound of her footsteps caused him to look up and a little of the tension leaked out of his frame. "Did you get any information from the prisoner?"

"Only that they were to return to Harrenhal after their…deed was complete to receive their recompense," Melara said disgustedly. "We need to go after the Lannister's before they reach King's Landing. That is no doubt their destination, I can't see why they would go back to Harrenhal. Tywin will no doubt be waiting to hear news of what he thinks is his momentous victory when he reaches King's Landing. We intend to cut him off at the pass."

Ben nodded. "And when will this plan be put into effect?"

Melara sighed heavily. "I do not know. Soon I hope but for the next few hours, there is much to be put in order."

Her older brother looked her over then and his eyes narrowed. "You look dead on your feet sister. You are still wearing your wedding dress and it is still covered in blood. You should go to bed soon. This entire day has been draining enough."

The brunette nodded tersely. "There will be no rest for me brother, not yet. I intend to see to Robb's family and then attend my king until he has no more need of me. Besides I…I don't think I can sleep right now. I'll close my eyes and…and I'll see their faces."

Ben's throat constricted and he nodded stiffly. "Very well then."

He stepped aside and opened the door for her allowing Melara to take a second's breath before she entered.

The sight she was presented with was a calm one. Sansa was sitting on the large window seat of her chamber, looking out through the glass into the dark night. In her arms was the babe who appeared to be fast asleep.

A quick inspection of the rest of the room revealed Arya fast asleep on the bed, curled into a small ball. Her face was tearstained as if she had cried herself to sleep and Melara quickly looked away, feeling her own eyes stinging as a result.

Curled up in one of the large chairs near the window seat was the nursemaid who also looked exhausted. A fire was crackling in the hearth and the room was warm lending an air of peace to the space that the rest of the castle had yet to see.

The red head looked up at the sound of the door opening and when she caught sight of Melara she tried to give her a smile.

She managed it slightly before her face crumpled and she looked down at the babe in her arms.

"How is he?" the brunette asked as she approached her good sister.

"After he was fed he went right to sleep," the other girl whispered back. "I told the nursemaid to rest as ever minute or less she was glancing at the door like she was waiting for it to open. I think you put the fear of the Seven in her."

"Good," Melara said sitting down across from her. "There are going to be a lot of people running scared in the next few weeks."

"I don't doubt it," Sansa replied. "Where is Robb now?"

"Seeing to a tunnel in the dungeons," the brunette replied. "Your great uncle believes it to be the passage that the traitors entered by."

"There isn't anyone still there is there?" Sansa asked fearfully and Melara shook her head. "No, the castle has been searched and purged completely. The Great Hall is clean and the bodies have been removed and burned. Those closest to us are awaiting burial."

Sansa nodded. "I'm….I'm so sorry about your sister and brother. I never spoke to Olyvar but he seemed a good man."

Melara nodded shortly and stared hard out the window. If she looked into her good sister's eyes and read the sympathy there, she would break down into a million pieces. The younger girl didn't need that right now. She needed to be strong for her.

Later….when she was alone she could let it all out.

"How long has Arya been asleep?" she managed to ask finally and Sansa glanced at her younger sister's form on the bed, her pretty face twisting in sympathy.

"She's taking it very hard. She didn't want to do anything else after you and Robb left but keep an eye on the babe and mutter under her breath. Finally I told her to go rest as she was just going to exhaust herself. She hasn't been asleep for long."

Finally she looked at the brunette closely and her eyes narrowed slightly. "Gods Melara you look terrible. You should bathe, eat and then lie down."

The brunette shook her head. "There's still too much to do."

Sansa surprised her then by raising an eyebrow. "Such as. You and my brother have been running yourself ragged for hours no doubt. The castle has been purged, your brother has been giving me updates when I have asked. And I saw that the bodies have been burned from my window. Robb has already addressed his army and you and he have questioned the prisoners. What else is there to do?"

Melara swallowed hard. "I suppose that's everything isn't it?"

"Yes," Sansa said gently. "You have done all that the queen should do. Even Robb would tell you now to go and rest."

"I can't," the brunette said through gritted teeth?"

"Why not?"

"Because," Melara released a shaky breath and ran a hand through her knotted hair. "Because I know if I lay down and close my eyes, I'm going to see them. I'm going to see their faces and hear their screams and I'm not going to be able to help them. I failed the both of them and I'll have to live with that knowledge for the rest of my life."

A hand suddenly grabbed hold of hers and Melara looked up with surprise to see that Sansa's eyes were blazing with blue fire. "Don't you dare think like that. I've had to live with guilt every day since my father was arrested, knowing that it was my fault. I told the queen he wanted to leave in the hopes that she would stop him so I could marry Joffrey and be queen. And I've been paying for my stupidity ever since. But I've had to realize something."

"What's that?" Melara whispered.

"That I didn't cut off my father's head," Sansa whispered back. "Joffrey did. Joffrey, the one who beat me until I was black and blue and I believed I deserved it because of how I betrayed Father."

"What's your point?" Melara asked.

"That you didn't kill your brother or sister," Sansa said earnestly. "The Lannisters did. There was nothing you could have done. You saved me and my sister and my mother and my little brother. And after you finished that, you went back and saved Robb. We're all alive because of you. You couldn't have been in two places at once and you did what my brother asked you to. No one is to blame but the Lannisters. And they are the ones who will pay."

"Aye."

The pair jumped and looked up having not heard the door open to find Robb standing there. In the light of the fire he cast an almost menacing shape on the floor. His sword was still drawn but no longer caked in blood making Melara think that the worst of it was over.

"Is everything alright?" Melara asked getting to her feet but he waved her back down. "It is. The passage has been sealed and all the bodies have been burned. The great, save for some broken chairs and tables has been put back in order thanks to you and I have ordered the men to their beds."

Sansa nodded and glanced down at the babe in her arms. "I'm afraid this little one was asleep long before you issued that order."

Robb's throat constricted and he carefully sheathed his sword before taking a few steps towards them. "How is he?"

"He's so quiet," Sansa said in hushed tones. "It's like he's completely oblivious to everything that's happened."

"Good," Robb said tersely. "And so he should be."

He glanced at Melara then. "You too need to rest wife. You look dead on your feet."

Melara opened her mouth to protest but saw the severe look on Sansa's face and slumped slightly. Her good sister looked as if she were about to go into her overbearing mother persona and she didn't want a lecture. "Are you sure there is nothing else you need me to do?"

"Nothing," Robb said. "All the ravens have been sent and the men are at the gates ready to stand against an attack."

"What have you told them about what happened?" Sansa asked.

"Merely that once we have re-provisioned ourselves, we will make for King's Landing and lay siege to it. The reign of the Lannisters is over."

"Good," Sansa all but snarled. "All I could think about when I was in the capital was how I wanted you to storm the Red Keep and bring me Joffrey's head on a plate. He showed me father's head…now I want to see his."

"Consider it done," Robb said roughly. "The crows will feast on him."

A moment of silence reigned between the three marked only by the crackling of the fire.

Finally her husband turned to her. "Melara, please go and rest. Take some food, I don't want you exhausting yourself any longer. You have done above and beyond any duty I could have asked."

"Duty?" Melara asked softly. "You cannot think I did all of this out of duty."

Robb held her gaze for a long moment and he seemed to realize that this was the wrong thing to say. So instead he crouched down in front of her and took both of her hands in his.

"No," he said hoarsely. "Not for one moment do I think you did any of this out of duty."

Melara gripped his hands and closed her eyes, trying to rein in her raging emotions. She knew if she started crying now she would never stop. She needed to get away, she needed to be alone.

"Good," she whispered softly. "Then if you have no further need of me, I will go and rest."

Before she could get up however, Robb rose and took her face between his hands. His eyes forced hers to look at him and with an effort, she did.

Buried in those impossible blue depths was pain and grief and guilt, so much that she thought might drown in it.

But there was also something else there, something that went even deeper than the hurt and was so much more powerful. And the longer she looked at him, the more that quality began to overwhelm all the others to the point where it was all she saw.

And in that moment, she felt more vulnerable than ever. Robb was looking at her with an emotion so deep that it was beginning to hurt to look at him.

Finally Melara broke the connection and looked away with a strangled breath before looking down at their conjoined hands. "I…I believe I will go and rest now."

With those words Robb released her hands and allowed her to get to her feet.

Quickly the brunette strode for the door, everything in her wishing to flee. She needed to flee that chamber before she felt any more deeply and broke down altogether.

"I will be along soon," Robb called out stopping her with her hand on the door. "We still need to talk."

Melara gripped the door knob and turned back but refused to look at him. "Very well…I will be in my chambers."

Then she threw the door open and fled.

Ω

When she reached her own chambers, Melara wasted no time in locking the door and warding it against anyone other than her brothers or the Starks.

She quickly lit the fire in the cold hearth with a spell and filled the tub in the corner with water before heating it with more magic.

After that, she peeled her battered and bloodied wedding dress off her slender frame and tossed it into the blazing fire without a thought. It didn't mean much now and she would rather lose any reminder of this horrible night.

It didn't take long for the garment to be reduced to ashes and the brunette stepped into the tub and sank down up to her shoulders with a groan of relief.

The hot water immediately soothed her bruises and sore muscles allowing her to release any tension completely and succumb to the bath.

Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back and submerged it beneath the water to get rid of the debris and blood that was in her hair before coming up and cleaning the bath water with another quick spell.

But after she had scrubbed herself thoroughly and had rubbed her skin raw, there was nothing left for Melara to do than lean back in the tub and try not to think.

She didn't want to get out just yet as there had been too much action in the day for her to want to get up…but in the stillness, in the silence, she closed her eyes and remembered those faces…saw those images and she swallowed a wave of nausea rising in her throat.

There was nothing left in her stomach to throw up but still the brunette struggled against the clenching in her stomach for a good minute before it finally went away.

Slowly Melara released the breath she had been holding and stared blankly at the water with unseeing eyes.

She imagined that if she looked hard enough she would see Ollie and Roslin's faces, their dead eyes, their open but soundless mouths and their horrible grey pallor and stiff fingers.

Her throat constricted and Melara gripped the edge of the tub as a second wave of nausea passed.

She tried to focus on what Sansa had told her but the voice of her good sister was quite easily drowned out by a voice she knew all too well, one that had been with her for a long time.

And it was called guilt.

 _Sansa doesn't know,_ the little voice whispered bitterly. _She might not have been able to do anything to save her father but she was a child. I'm not. Who_ _knows when those bastards set upon them? It might have been after I left her, Arya and Catelyn. I should have taken Roslin with me too. Maybe she could have helped deliver the babe. At the very least she still would have been alive. Ollie would have remained behind with Robb and I would have gotten back in time to save him too just like the other three. If I'd done things differently…they would still be here. I promised….I promised Ros I'd look after her…I promised….I promised…._

Her mental thought was never finished as hot stinging tears, hotter than the water in the bath smarted at Melara's eyes and poured down her face.

She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them before resting her head against the tops of them.

And then for the second time that day she succumbed to grief.

But this wasn't the grief borne of horror and shock and despair…this was grief borne of an ache of realization that those she loved were gone…they weren't coming back and all the magic in the world couldn't save them. It didn't matter how powerful she was or how many people she tortured for revenge. Her brother and sister had been brutally murdered…and she hadn't been there.

Melara cried until she felt shriveled inside…unable to give any more physical manifestations of grief. And when the tears had dried up, her eyes still burned as if sand had been rubbed in them.

This…This was far worse than anything she had sustained in the war in her first life. It felt as if a terribly sharp object had stabbed at both her heart and mind, leaving behind awful gaping wounds that were jagged and scarred.

The pain of losing Daphne had long since faded…but this grief…this horrible aching pain…this was something that would never fully heal.

Even with time, Melara knew the bitter knowledge that not even her magic could save everyone.

And that was the most galling truth that she had ever had to swallow.

She didn't know how long she sat there slowly rocking back and forth in her silent grief and trying to rid her mind of the ghosts that were still so fresh.

It must have been a long time however for when the knock on the door finally came and she raised her head towards it, the bathwater was tepid and she could feel a chill creeping up her skin that was equal parts cold and emotional numbness.

"Who is it?" Melara asked and then immediately cleared her throat as it sounded horribly hoarse.

There was a short pause before the voice of her husband's voice rang through. "It's Robb…may I come in?"

Melara took a deep breath. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her like this. She needed to keep it together…he had lost just as much as she had.

Quickly she got out of the tub and dried herself before summoning her robe from across the room and wrapping it around herself. "Come in."

There was another second's hesitation before the handle turned and the door pushed open to reveal the King in the North standing on the threshold.

His hair was damp as if he too had had a bath and he was dressed in a simple tunic and breeches of a dark grey color tucked into boots. He was without his heavy fur cloak but it was warm enough in the castle that he didn't need it.

There was a heaviness in those blue eyes of his that Melara knew was in hers as well.

"I'm sorry," he said in a low voice when he saw her state of undress, "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't," the brunette said quickly. "I needed to get out of the bath anyway, I'd been in there too long. How is Sansa?"

"Fine," Robb said as he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. "I place another guard on their door for the night. Benfrey refuses to leave and Perwyn and Willamen have insisted that they will impart to those members of House Frey that survived of the change in succession."

"Hmm," Melara mused. "I suppose that is for the best. Wyn seemed…single minded about rooting out any traitors."

"I wish there were ten more of your brother," Robb said. He paused by the crackling fire and rested one hand against the mantle. "There are still so many unknowns."

"I know," Melara whispered as she sat down heavily on the bed opposite the hearth. "I don't think I've ever felt quite so….violated before."

She felt almost dirty saying the word and immediately wanted to dive back into the tub and scrub herself again.

Robb must have heard the self loathing in her voice because he turned around quickly and before she could even blink he was kneeling before her, taking both of her hands in his. "Melara, I want you to listen to me carefully. _It is not your fault."_

This was too much.

She uttered a harsh bitter laugh that made her cringe inwardly. "It is though isn't it? I promised Roslin I'd protect her. I've always protected her, ever since she was born and was a sickly child and my father despised her. I made sure she stayed away from him and when I couldn't Ollie did. The three of us were the last ones left at the Crossing. Wyn was constantly away on business, Ben married and had his own holdfast and Will was studying to be a maester. It was the three of us against everyone else. And when I wasn't there…Ollie always kept an eye on Roslin. And he did…until his death."

"Melara…look at me."

It took a massive effort but somehow she managed to look up into the intent blue eyes of her husband. He bore the same look he had given her in the chamber earlier with Sansa and the babe present. Only this time they were alone and there was no shield she needed to erect about herself.

Those eyes begged her to let him in, to share her grief as he was longing to share his.

She had to swallow several times in order to clear the lump in her throat.

"Don't hold onto that guilt beloved," he said in a low voice that was hoarse with its own grief. "It will kill you."

"What are we supposed to do?" the brunette asked in a broken whisper. "They're gone…they're gone and we didn't even get to say a proper goodbye."

"I know," Robb replied. "I wish with everything I have that I had known before he left Winterfell that it was the last time I would see my father. Gods the things I would have said…the things I would have asked. I would have stopped him…I know I would have."

Not knowing why she was doing it, Melara suddenly reached out a hand and rested it against the side of his face.

"He would be so proud of you," she whispered. "I never met him but I did catch a glimpse of him when my brothers and I went to the capital for the Hand's Tourney. He was a very serious looking man."

Robb laughed shortly but surprised her by reaching up and grasping hold of the hand that was pressing against his face. "Aye, that he was. He would have liked you though."

"What makes you so sure?" Melara asked bitterly.

"Because," Robb said. "He was a man that valued bravery and loyalty above everything else in this life. You have both. My family and I…we're only alive because of you."

"I couldn't save your mother though," Melara whispered. "And now you've lost both your parents."

"I know," Robb said. "And the babe will never know them either. But we can tell him. He'll have our memories and stories. And that's possible because of you."

"How can you even stand to look at me right now?" Melara asked suddenly, getting up from the bed in a hurry. "My father betrayed you…after swearing an oath and giving you his allegiance, he tried to stab you in the back. And I've committed kin slaying…even if my father attempted it first. I've killed members of my own family. I'm a murderer."

"You are my wife," Robb said fiercely and at his tone Melara turned around, desperate for any form of comfort and hating herself for it. "And you protected this family. If that is murder…than I am as guilty of it as you."

He crossed the room towards her and took both of her hands in his. "Listen to me Melara. They are going to pay…every single last Lannister. We are going to raze that entire house and we will not stop until Westeros is purged of the lions forever. The dead demand justice. And they _will_ have it."

Melara stared into his fierce blue eyes for a long moment seeking out the deep and deadly promise there.

And when she found it, her nerve broke and she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his, desperate for any form of comfort she could get.

Robb stiffened for a moment in surprise before he returned her kiss in full force. The gestures were desperate as they fumbled at each other, slow desire that had been building for a long time mixed with deep grief and a need to escape it all and lose themselves in one another.

Grief and desire melded into a continuous desperate need for the other, a need to feel something other then grief, rage or the horrible aching pain left behind by those that they had lost.

And as her husband laid her down on the bed, Melara looked up into his eyes and saw that he was allowing himself to forget…for just one night…they could forget everything…and lose themselves in each other.

Dawn would come soon enough and with it were the demands of war.

But for these few hours, it was just husband and wife taking comfort in each other's bodies…and denying that the world outside the chamber existed at all.

Ω

 **So I wanted to be very sensitive with how I handled this last scene between Robb and Melara. I'm sure you can all imagine what happens next between them but I wanted to make it clear that this intimacy is not borne of lust or any other instinct but rather its being driven by a desire to comfort and to be comforted because of everything that they've lost. I don't think this would be completely out of Robb's character as he slept with Jayne Westerling in the book after he found out about the "deaths" of Bran and Rickon. In the next chapter, plans are made, the horns are sounded and the doom of the Lannisters begins. I hope you liked this chapter, don't forget to review and if you liked ruthless Melara in this chapter and the last one...you're about to see a lot more of her. Cheers!**


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